Let It Go
by Tate Sourwater
Summary: Goren & Eames, Post-Purgatory/Pre-Frame. Shifting worldviews and current events cause G&E to realize sometimes they just have to let it go. Reviving the story from the dust. Give it a try. Chap 11 up.
1. Chapter 1

Lucas Jordanais was born of privilege. His privilege entailed an uptown bachelor pad, a hefty spending account, a top of the line sports car, and a steady stream of friends and women, both loyal and otherwise, as a result. Jordanais also believed his privilege resulted in the same diplomatic immunity it afforded his father. He believed his immunity included protection from criminal prosecution, expulsion from school, and even the right his so-called friends had to dislike and mistrust him. In short, Lucas Jordanais lived life with the notion that he was invincible, and could quite possibly control the universe as it rotated around him. What Lucas consciously ignored was the hard work his father put forth in order to become a diplomat, and all the true immunities and privileges that accompanied it. He ignored the reality of the law, the authority of his school, and abused his friendships. Fortunately, for Lucas, much of the world existed with the same delusions he created. His father still spoiled him, the law ignored him, his teachers tolerated him, and more than anything else, his friends stood by him.

Lucas and his friends celebrated this lifestyle on the evening of a cool spring Sunday. Loud music, plentiful pizza and booze, and enough intoxicated warm bodies to fill Hudson University's student lounge. Lucas cozied up with his high school sweetheart, Kelly Jean Rogge, beer bottle in one hand, Kelly's backside in the other. Kelly's friends danced a few feet in front of them, bumping and grinding to the latest techno-pop.

Sidiq Fayyad flopped onto the couch on the opposite side of Kelly, clapping his hands while he cheered on the movements of his friend and protégé, Bakr Okaly. Bakr inched closer to the young woman dancing in front of him, Emily Choi, a close friend of Kelly's. He beamed as she responded to his movements, bumping her bottom against his thighs.

Sidiq's cheering brought Campbell Brown's attention to the pair. Campbell, Lucas's best friend, pushed away from Kelly's best friend, Chalise Hanks. Chalise scowled momentarily before backing up into another male who quickly took over her attention. Campbell attempted to act nonchalant as he swayed closer to Emily and Bakr, but interrupted them abruptly by sliding in between them.

Lucas and Sidiq applauded Campbell's assertiveness with catcalls and laughter at Bakr. Kelly and Emily exchanged coy glances while Emily reached out to Campbell, grinding closer to him.

Bakr turned to leave in a huff. He glared at his friends on the couch as he headed away from the crowded floor and towards the exit. He watched his feet as he moved, running directly into a man twice his size.

Dr. Brooks Frazier held onto Bakr's shoulder with one hand while he flipped light switches with the other. His six-foot solid frame blocked Bakr's continued efforts to leave the lounge. Dr. Frazier glared down at him with piercing blue eyes through thin glass. Bakr's scowl deepened while his eyes darkened.

Intoxicated young adults scattered and pulled away from one another while tossing beer cans into trashcans, planters, and behind furniture. The youngest among them scattered for the exits, hoping to avoid any penalties for their age.

Dr. Frazier pushed Bakr in front of him as he walked towards Lucas Jordanais and his group of friends. Lucas made no effort to stand or greet the teacher. He smirked while his friends shrugged and joshed one another with silent gesticulation.

Bakr glared disapprovingly at the group.

In the frosty morning of Monday, an elderly janitor found Campbell Brown at the back door of Hudson University's Student Union. His lifeless body sparkled with broken glass from the door's shattered window. Emily Choi lay lifeless in the alley on the other side.


	2. Chapter 2

Typically, Alex Eames would arrive at a crime scene after her partner had already been there long enough to poke at evidence and create a feel for the environment all on his own. Lately, however, when he or she would call the other to discuss or inform on a new callout, he had been taking her up on the offer he normally refused.

"Do you want me to pick you up?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do," he would respond.

She never questioned the change. Today was no exception, other than she was picking him up from 1PP instead of his home. At just past 8 am, he had been at work nearly an hour. She was running late, as usual, and he called her after Ross passed on the few details they knew. Their new routine resumed from there.

He met her on the curb, his wool overcoat fully buttoned, clenching his portfolio to his chest. She hoped he had not been waiting long. The last thing she needed for him was to be sick and gone again.

"Morning," she greeted him.

He nodded, saying nothing, while he situated himself in his seat and buckled his seatbelt.

"Coffee?" she asked, indicating two steaming cups in the cup holders, contributors to her morning tardiness.

"Thanks," he nodded again, picking up a cup to drink.

Eames deftly navigated the morning rush. Surprisingly, the only traffic jam they encountered did not occur until they approached Hudson University's Student Union Building. Marked patrol cars lined the streets, while civilians slowed their commutes to rubberneck the area. Young people lined the sidewalks, held back by yellow police tape surrounding what appeared to be the entire block. To compound matters, the news vans squeezed their way into what little street parking remained and reporters and cameramen elbowed their way through the crowd.

"What a circus!" Eames guffawed in frustration.

Goren continued to peer out the window, still silent.

Eames spotted a uniformed officer directing the crawling stream of traffic forward and past the scene. She slowed as she approached him, and rolled down her window.

"Major Case," she said to him as she held up her badge.

The officer nodded and pointed, "Go to the right, show the next guy your shield, he'll show you in around the corner."

Eames forced a smile and nodded, rolling her window back up. She followed his instructions, and the motioned directions of the next officer, which indicated she should proceed into a less crowded on street parking area. She pulled in behind a CSU van and shifted into park. She retrieved her as-yet untouched cup of coffee and exited the SUV.

Goren stuffed his gloves into his pocket and adjusted his portfolio under his arm. He nodded at a uniformed officer standing outside the building. "Who's in charge?"

"Battistuz, in the back alley with a vic." The officer pointed around the corner of the building.

Goren glanced at Eames and headed around the building. It seemed the alley was bustling even more than the sidewalk had been. Battistuz spotted them first.

"You from Major Case?" he asked.

He nodded, "Robert Goren," and gestured to his left, "Alex Eames."

"Sal Battistuz." He shook Goren's hand. "We got one girl over there, on the other side of the dumpster. Purse found with her IDs her as Emily Choi, 23, looks like she was strangled, either dumped or left, not sure yet. Money, jewelry, still with her, not a robbery."

Goren proceeded forward as he listened to the description. He stopped and peered down at the petite Asian woman. He crouched for a better look, mentally cataloging every millimeter of what he saw. She lay on her side, blouse crumpled, skirt raised, neck bruised.

"Was she raped?" he asked.

"Looks that way," came the reply from the nearby CSU technician.

Goren stood again and turned back to Battistuz. "Why not call Special Victims?"

Battistuz motioned to the door, "The second vic. Kid's dad is some kind of big shot, don't know the details. Brass said to pass it off to you, so," he shrugged, "not like I don't got enough to do."

Goren carefully maneuvered closer to the door. Glass sparkled on the ground closest to it, and blood had begun to pool through the crack beneath. He used his height to his advantage, looking through the broken opening without having to step on anything.

"Second vic also still has his wallet; ID says he's Campbell Brown, turned 25 last weekend. Stabbed multiple times."

Goren's brow crinkled. "He's leaning against the door, like he was trying to get out."

Eames moved closer. "If it was the same perp, probably couldn't have gone through here."

"Where's the next closest entry to the building?" Goren asked.

"Down there. Opens into the maintenance hallway," Battistuz answered.

"Any idea what they were doing here?" Eames asked.

Battistuz nodded. "Professor heading home saw lights on, stopped in to check on things. Found a party upstairs in the student lounge, broke it up around midnight."

"Upstairs?" Goren asked.

"Yeah, arboretum there is just outside the lounge." Battistuzpointed upwards to a balcony.

A uniformed officer approached the trio and spoke to Battistuz. "Some of the vic's friends around out on the lawn, they're pretty upset. One says he's a roommate of the guy."

Battistuz looked to Goren, who looked to Eames. Battistuz nodded and motioned for the uniformed officer to come with him and the female detective.

"Meet me upstairs?"

Eames nodded and headed off after Battistuz. Goren asked another unformed officer to lead him inside, to the adjacent crime scene.

It was a short walk, he noted, from the maintenance alley door, down the corridor, and into a main hallway, which then connected to the hallway where Campbell Brown lay.

He cautiously approached the scene, restraining himself not to interfere with the CSU technicians and their work. He again used his height to take in the scene from a comfortable distance, but curiosity got the better of him and he finally moved in closer, to a crouch.

"Glass from the door?" he asked the technician next to him.

"Probably. It's mixed though, some is light, clear like you would expect in a door like this, but some is darker, and of a different depth."

"Bottle maybe?" Goren asked.

The technician shrugged. "That'd be my guess, glass chromatography would tell for sure"

"Make sure you get as much as you can." His eyes traveled the length of the young man's body, which had slumped along the door and to the floor. "He was stabbed in the back?"

"Yeah. Likely got him right in the kidneys, then again farther forward, counted five wounds so far. Probably didn't take him long to bleed out. Perp knew where to get him."

Goren nodded and stood, taking a closer look at the heavy wooden door. "Scratch marks on the door…somebody sure was clawing to get it open."

"The vic," the technician gestured downward, "he didn't have much for fingernails to begin with, but his nails are broke. Door's locked though, heavy lock, no way he could've opened it without a key."

Goren's brow crinkled again. "So he broke the window?"

The technician shook his head. "Most of the glass is on this side and blown inward. It was broken from the outside."

Goren nodded. "Thanks." He turned again to the officer who had originally led him inside. "Upstairs?"

The officer turned and led him two thirds of the way back the way they had came before starting up the stairs. He stopped at the top. "Go forward through that doorway, you go straight to the arboretum, which is usually locked up until late spring, but kids bust the locks, go out there and smoke. The other doorway there is the student lounge."

"Thanks," Goren nodded and headed for the arboretum, noting through the large glass walls that there were multiple CSU technicians going over the student lounge.

There were fewer technicians on the balcony, and those there were mostly gathering what looked like leftover party trash. He strode slowly to the edge and looked over.

"They say you shouldn't look down," Eames joked from behind him, as she walked closer.

"There is a pretty clear view of that dumpster from here."

"So, Campbell saw something happening to Emily, ran down and tried to help?"

He shrugged. "Maybe." He turned away from the edge and faced her. "What did you find out?"

Eames took a breath and flipped open her notebook. "Campbell's roommate, Lucas Jordanais, and two lady friends. They said the professor, Dr. Frazier, broke up the party around 12, and he negotiated with him that if they cleaned up, they wouldn't get turned in." She held back a smirk. "Around one, everyone was heading out. He said he remembered Emily taking out a load of trash down the stairs, but doesn't remember where Campbell was. He did admit having too much to drink. Between that, and his obvious grief, it was a chore to get much out of him. Uniform is taking him and the girls he's with to 1PP."

Goren frowned and shook his head. "Kids…pretty sure I was never that young."

Eames smirked at him, "And I'm sure you were always an angel too."

Goren smirked back and followed her out of arboretum.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Goren directed his comment at Lucas and glanced briefly at his female companions.

Lucas said nothing, only inhaled deeply. One girl, petite, blonde, All-American-looking, clutched his left arm, held back a sob while the other girl next to her, taller, impossibly thinner, with bright red hair, covered her eyes with her hand.

"We're very sorry about your friends," Goren continued while he sat down across from them, Eames followed suit next to him. "We just need to ask a couple questions…" he looked to his partner on his right.

"When was the last time you saw Campbell and Emily?" Eames cut to the chase.

Lucas leaned back heavily and blew strands of shaggy brown hair out of his matching brown eyes. "Like I already told you, Emily took a bag of trash down around one, and I last saw Cam cleaning up in the lounge. Kelly and Chalise and I headed downstairs before he did."

"Weren't you worried when Campbell didn't come home?" Goren asked, flipping to a clean notebook page.

Lucas smirked bitterly. "I figured he took Emily home, and stayed there."

Goren looked to Eames and continued. "So the three of you went home together, you assumed Campbell and Emily went home also… any other roommates?"

Lucas contemplated, watching his free fingers tap the tabletop. "Sidiq came home with us, but he was gone when I woke up this morning. I went to wake him, after I, after," he bit his lip and cleared his throat, "after I finally answered my cell and found out. He was gone. Bakr was pissed off at Cam and left the lounge right after Dr. Frazier showed up. I don't know where he went; didn't see him at home between now and then."

"Why was…Bakr upset with Campbell?" Goren asked.

"Bakr liked Emily and so did Cam. Bakr was dancing with her, Cam took over, and we gave Bakr a bad time about it. Didn't mean anything. Cam was always getting between them anytime Bakr, or anybody, tried something. Emily and Cam had been on again, off again, for a while."

Goren looked to Eames again, while making notes in his binder.

"Do you know anyone who might want to harm your friends?" Eames asked, concentrating on the young man in front of her.

"No, man, they, I don't know," Lucas covered his eyes with his free hand, "My dad's gonna be pissed as hell when I tell him, and I'll be better off with them, that's all I know."

Goren paused, looked puzzled, and could only formulate a single word, "Why?"

Lucas took a breath and wiped his eyes. "Our dad's work together, mine and Cam's. When they went overseas, promised them I'd watch out for him."

"Your father's are both some sort of diplomats?" Goren asked, taking an assumptive leap, preparing his pencil for new information.

Lucas shook his head. "My dad is, works a lot with our Embassy in Paris. Cam's dad is his assistant, has been forever. Dad was always making me invite Cam to stuff when we were kids. Saying I needed to get to know different kinds of people, people not in private schools…" he twirled his finger in the air and rolled his eyes, "We got to be friends after a while. Cam worshiped Dad…wanted to work overseas, help people like Dad helped him and his dad, gave them a chance, leg up."

"And you?" Goren asked, eyebrows raised, intrigued.

"I just wanted my dad off my back," Lucas scoffed. "He was always saying, why can't you focus more like Cam, work harder like Cam, be more appreciative like Cam? Was always about Cam, better grades, scholarships, jobs, aspirations, girls, everything…" he trailed off and looked away.

"Sounds like quite the rivalry to me," Eames noted provocatively.

Lucas sat straight back, defensively, "Look, we were friends okay? I wouldn't do anything to him, ever! I just, I don't know. This, just, sucks…" He leaned forward and covered his face with his hands, breaking away from Kelly.

"What about Emily?" Goren attempted to change the subject, and turned his attention to the girls.

Kelly shifted uneasily and ran her palms along her thighs while she spoke up for the first time that meeting. "Everyone loves Emily. They always have. She works, worked so hard..." Her eyes welled and she brought a hand to her mouth as realization struck her again.

Goren sensed the young adults were not going to hold up much longer. Chalise had continued to be unable to pull herself together long enough to even speak. "What about these other two guys, how long have you known them?"

Lucas sat up, red-eyed and resigned. "Me and Cam have lived with Sidiq almost two years, since the beginning of grad school. Another of Dad's arrangements to expand my social horizons. We're all in the same program, so it worked out. But, Bakr…we don't know him so well. Emily's brother, Ethan, lived with us before, but he got married just before Christmas. Sidiq is Bakr's student companion in the international exchange program, invited him to take Ethan's room when the semester changed a couple weeks ago. We didn't care, only a semester to go and we were gonna get the hell out of here anyway..."

"And you're sure you don't know where we can find either one of them?" Eames asked.

Lucas shook his head. "I don't know. They stick together, the whole group of them." He sneered.

"Of who?" Goren caught Eames eyes and shifted uncomfortably.

Lucas looked to Kelly, and refused to meet Goren's gaze as he chose his words carefully, "You know, the sand…" he swallowed, "the, Arabs."

Goren nodded and appeared relieved at Lucas apparent omission of a disparaging term. "Okay. Well. I think that's enough for now. We'll be in touch." He slipped his pencil back into place and closed his binder.

"When you do find them…hope you got a translator," Lucas stated snidely.

Goren's brow wrinkled, "They don't speak English? Isn't that a requirement?"

Lucas shrugged and frowned. "Sidiq does fine, but most of the time he'd have to interpret between us and Bakr, annoying as hell. You'd think he'd know like, close the refrigerator, put down the toilet seat, do you want fries or a salad..."

Goren's face still emitted confusion, and Eames' mirrored his. "Alright," he stood, "we'll have an officer take you all home. But I expect you to give us a call as soon as you hear from Bakr or Sidiq. We'll need to talk to them." He slid a business card across the table.

Lucas nodded, shoved it into his pant pocket, and rejoined his arm to Kelly's.

Goren and Eames exited the meeting room.

* * *

After their interview with Lucas Jordanais and his friends, Goren and Eames reported to Captain Ross about the nature and progress of their case. He blithely advised them to investigate heartily into the lives of Bakr Okaly and Sidiq Fayyad. He also provided superfluous warnings about the potential for the case to develop gratuitous attention due to the ethnicity of the missing roommates. The detectives obligatorily nodded, agreed and promised to keep him in the loop.

TARU had informed them that the security cameras in the student union building had been set up for appearances only, as a deterrent. None of the cameras yet possessed the capability to observe or record. CSU had no updates on the broken glass, trace evidence or fingerprints. The ME had little to add to the already established causes of death. Emily had been strangled, likely by someone leaning forcefully on her neck with their forearm while they assaulted her. Campbell's body exhibited five precise stab wounds on his lower back and abdomen, approximately three inches deep. Campbell's slight build allowed the attacker to inflict maximum damage with minimum effort using, "a standard switchblade, nothing special, other than he probably carries it illegally, along with a million other people," Rogers had mused. Both young adults' TOX analysis revealed intoxication slightly above the legal limit, and thankfully nothing more.

By the time they had finished with Ross, visited various lab technicians, written up their preliminary crime scene, evidence, and interview reports, made multiple telephone calls to the university, and begun various computer-based searches on the half dozen young adults on their persons of interest list, it was early evening. Both detectives had exceeded their tolerance level for one day and had begun to discuss their approach for the day to follow.

"Eames, line one," Jefferies shouted from the pod of desks to Eames' right, interrupting their planning.

She answered, involuntarily nodded whilst mumbling something about being right over, thanked the caller, and hung up. "That was a secretary from the School of International and Public Affairs," she raised an eyebrow in subliminal mockery of the lengthy name, "Dr. Frazier is available to speak with us."

"Nice of him to get us into his schedule," Goren echoed her deliberate ridicule with a miniscule smile.

They pushed away from their desks in unison, shouldered their coats and headed for the elevators.

* * *

Dr. Brooks Frasier was a pretentious man who appeared barely older than 30. In reality, he was closer to 40, but never felt compelled to admit that to any possible suitor. Dr. Frazier exuded arrogant confidence and intelligence. In short, he was a typical pretty-boy, pompous-ass.

Goren and Eames arrived at the International Studies building, professors' office floor, where a secretary promptly and politely asked them to wait. They were not surprised.

Dr. Frazier invited them into his office several minutes later.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Detectives. It's been a busy day."

"Uh, we know, us too. We won't keep you long." Goren played with niceties. "We were told you were among the last to see Campbell Brown and Emily Choi last night."

Dr. Frazier sat down at his desk and motioned for the detectives to sit across from him. He exhaled deeply and nodded. "Damn shame. Campbell Brown was really going places, and Emily…sweet girl, good family. I taught her brother."

Goren eyed Eames while making notes in his binder. She resumed the questions. "When did you last see Campbell and Emily?"

"I was wrapping up some midterm grades in my office around midnight, and as I was leaving campus I saw lights on and many figures in the lounge area. The university has had some real issues this year, with the kids partying there, drinking, drugs… The administration instituted an eleven o'clock closing time for the lounge on school nights and a campus curfew to try to curb it. When I got inside and saw Lucas and his friends, I decided to cut them a break. Lucas, Campbell, and their other roommates are all students of mine. We have an understanding, wasn't all that long ago that I was in their shoes, trying to get through school and still have fun. I stayed to make sure they cleaned up after themselves, and when it looked like everyone was on their way out at about one, I left; I was exhausted, friendly as I try to be, I'm definitely not 22 anymore."

Goren held back an eye roll with a tilt of the head, "So, Lucas, Campbell, and," Goren flipped a page in his notebook, "Sidiq Fayyad and Bakr Okaly are all students of yours?"

"Yes, and I advise them all in the SIPA program," he leaned back in his chair and sat up a little taller.

"How well do you know Sidiq and, uh, Bakr?" Goren asked.

"Sidiq came to us from Saudi Arabia autumn semester of 2006. Brilliant boy. He will really have a lot to offer his compatriots when he returns there this summer. Bakr is from Egypt. Not quite as bright as Sidiq, has had some struggles with the language, fitting in…I paired him with Sidiq, hoped he would rub off. I understand Sidiq met Lucas and Campbell through an arrangement made by Mr. Jordanais."

Goren nodded, "Have you heard from either of them today?"

Dr. Frazier's jaw dropped slightly, "Well, no, I would imagine they're quite upset and seeking solace with their other friends."

Goren eyed Eames who again took over. "Actually, neither of them has spoken to Lucas, Kelly, Chalise or anyone else at all today."

"Really," Dr. Frazier slumped slightly, "You don't think… You don't think they had anything to do with this do you?"

"Do you know of any reason they might?" she countered.

"Well, no, no of course not. When I got to the lounge last night, Bakr seemed to be upset about something, and on his way out the door. I tried to have him stay, but I lost track of him in the rush of fleeing kids."

"We were told he had a bit of a skirmish with Campbell." Eames offered.

"Bakr was a bit smitten with Emily, but I understand she and Campbell were occasionally more than friends, especially since her brother Ethan moved out of Lucas's place. Beyond that, I don't know."

Eames caught Goren's eye, and he closed his notebook. "Alright. Well, thank you, for meeting with us Dr. Frazier. We'll be in touch. If you do hear from them, Bakr or Sidiq, please let us know." He placed a business card on the desk as he stood.

"If I can do anything else, anything at all, please let me know. This really is a tragedy for the university, and the SIPA community especially."

Goren nodded and Eames led the way from the office.

* * *

"Whatever happened to toga parties, bonfires and spin the bottle?" Eames asked as they buckled their seatbelts, back in the car.

Goren smiled slightly and leaned his head back against the chair.

They drove a few blocks before the buzzing of Goren's cell phone interrupted the silence. He tugged it out of his pocket and checked the display.

"Restricted number. Great," he muttered as he flipped it open, "Goren."

Eames glanced to her right when he abruptly sat straighter in his chair. His jaw slackened and his eyes widened. He quickly banished his show of surprise, hoping Eames hadn't noticed, yet knowing she had. He swallowed hard, trying to bring moisture back to his throat before replying. "Fine, good, I'm… how are you?" He scratched his forehead with his right hand, drawing attention away from his reddening cheeks as he continued, "Where are you?"

Eames watched him from the corner of her eye and continued to listen to his half of the conversation as she continued to drive back towards 1PP.

"You're in the city?" Pause. "Dinner?" Pause. "I'm with my partner; we're just finishing for the day." Pause. "Uh, yeah, okay, I'll ask her. Um, where can I meet you, should I pick you up?" Pause. "Yeah, on Spring Street. We're headed that way now, ten minutes maybe." Pause. "O-okay. See you soon." He closed the phone.

"Hot date?" Eames joked.

Goren looked at her hesitantly. "Old friend. You're invited."

Eames wrinkled her nose and tried not to mirror his gaze, remembering the good, odd, and ugly of his unique and often unusual friends.

"You don't have to, if you…" Goren suggested awkwardly.

Eames shrugged slightly and forced a smile, which quickly dissolved into a legitimate grin, "Where we going?"


	4. Chapter 4

Goren directed Eames to one of Little Italy's better known pizza bars. With a little effort, they were able to find parking around the block from the restaurant. Goren called their office, officially clocking them out for the evening. The crowds were light, being only the beginning of the week, early into the dinner rush, and immediate seating was ample. Goren, however, showed no interest in entering the restaurant and instead began habitual pacing of the length of the building's front façade.

"How do you know the mystery guest isn't already inside?" Eames asked after a minute, pushing her hands into her coat pockets while peering through the bay window to the inside.

Goren shrugged, hands outstretched at his sides and paced to the right. "She's coming from downtown, farther away than we were." He paced to the left.

"Ah. A she." Eames snickered, turning to face him.

Goren paced to the right and wiped an imaginary substance from his scruffy chin. "You could wait inside," he suggested nonchalantly, right thumb pointed toward the door.

"Nah, now I'm all curious," her smirk continued.

He paced to left. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

Eames rolled her eyes and smiled. "I have plenty of lives left."

Goren paced to the right and fidgeted with the knot of his tie.

"You look fine," Eames assured him.

His pacing stumbled slightly and he raised an eyebrow in response.

She smiled innocently.

He resumed pacing.

The sun dipped below the horizon but the city remained illuminated with its fading glow and ample artificial light. Traffic, both pedestrian and motorized, increased as businesses and offices closed for the evening. The pizza bar also began to fill with dinner patrons.

Goren paced back towards Eames and stood at her side, relatively still, and frowned.

"Maybe she couldn't get a cab," Eames suggested.

He shook his head. "She'd walk before she took a cab. Probably took the subway." He looked to either side before turning slightly in the direction of the nearest subway entrance. His head bobbed to the left and right as he peered around the steadily increasing number of pedestrians.

Eames began to offer another explanation, but Goren took off in long strides to his left. Eames stepped forward and followed him with her eyes, anxious to spot their guest, but she could not discern exactly whom he sought. He stopped and she watched as he bent slightly and a set of arms not his own wrapped around his lower back. She expected him to return quickly for introductions, but after thirty seconds, a minute and more, she began to feel forgotten. Before she worked up the nerve to interrupt their embrace a passerby nearly walked into the pair, but saved himself by only brushing against the sides of Goren and his friend. This seemed to jostle them back to reality and after another moment, they finally turned in Eames' direction.

Goren's friend, Eames noted, was an inch or two taller than she was, but of larger stature, though clearly of strong physique. The woman's wavy auburn hair hung well past her shoulders. She wore loose blue jeans, a charcoal colored wool, waist length coat, and dark brown leather slip on loafers. Her age, Eames' guessed, was likely in the early 40s. Eames' naturally began to run through her internal rolodex of potential occupations for the stranger, but cut short her contemplation upon noticing Goren's face. He was grinning, wide and bright. She could not help but mirror him with one of her own as they finished their approach to her.

"This is my partner, Alex Eames," Goren extended an arm in Eames' direction, "and this is Rainy Jay Jansen." He continued to beam, but the redness of his eyes did not escape Eames' notice.

"Nice to finally put a face with a name, Detective," Rainy warmly smiled as she pulled her right hand stiffly from her pant pocket and gingerly extended it, her blue eyes also appeared reddened.

Eames was careful not to allow her surprise and confusion to show as she accepted the greeting. But as Rainy stepped back, she returned her gaze to Goren, silently asking for more information.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before uttering a sound Rainy had led the way to the door.

"I've been craving this place for at least a year," she began while entering the building.

Goren instead offered Eames a shrug, and extended an arm in the direction of the doorway.

* * *

Despite the increasing dinner rush, a polite Italian hostess seated the trio without difficulty. They draped their coats on their chairs and settled in to read the well-worn plastic menus the woman provided them.

A young waiter greeted them warmly seconds later, informed them of the house specials in a barely decipherable stream of heavily accented speech, and ended by producing pen and paper from seemingly nowhere while asking what they would like to drink.

Goren and Eames looked up from their menus at one another with raised eyebrows, both still processing the waiter's words.

Rainy Jay did not seem as mystified. "I'll take a pint of the most domestic brew you have on tap."

Eames shrugged. Goren nodded and added, "Better make it a pitcher."

The waiter smiled and nodded. "Need another minute then?"

"I'm too overwhelmed with choices and anticipation to make any decisions," Rainy Jay had yet to look away from the menu.

"I think the special sounded pretty good," Eames smirked, knowing that neither she nor Goren accurately heard what it entailed.

Goren shrugged. "What do you think, Jay?"

"Better go with it, or I'll simply salivate over the menu all night."

Goren nodded at the waiter and handed him back his and Eames' menus.

"The special then," the waiter noted, hesitating before extending a hand for Rainy Jay's menu, which she reluctantly relinquished. He spun on his heels and made way for the kitchen.

Rainy Jay's eyes remained downcast another moment before she excitedly sat back, hands toying with the silverware bundle in front of her. "I brought you some _Bruderbier_. You'll have to get it later though. I love the subway, but nighttime, alone, with a bag of booze," she shook her head, "not even for you, buddy."

Goren nodded and leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table's edge. "How is Gus, he didn't come?"

She smiled forlornly. "Nah, I am supposed to be reconnecting with the roots on my own for a bit. He is doing well though, thinking of working in the Balkans this summer, busy spending time at University studying and preparing. He said to tell you hello. I guess you got pretty friendly while I was out of commission. I saw some of the phone bills."

He smiled, nodding. "I'd like to meet him, but settling for some German microbrew will do." He sat back, relaxed. "_Die Unterhaltung mit ihm war für mein Deutsch gut_." _Talking to him was good for my German_, he added.

"I bet so," she nodded, smiling.

"He did invite me to your wedding, guess I'll meet him then."

Rainy's eyebrows rose in apparent amusement, "Did he also mention when that would be?"

Goren's forehead instantly reddened and for a heartbeat he looked caught, torn, alarmed; afraid he had just spilled the beans on an unasked proposal. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

Laughter met his discomfort. Rainy giggled while shaking her head and reaching out tentatively to him. "Don't worry, Bobby. He keeps asking. I keep," she shrugged, twirling her outreached fingers in the air, "delaying." She settled back and turned her gaze to Eames, who had remained a quiet observer.

Goren, shaken, looked to his hands.

Rainy smiled at Eames. "I'm sorry, Detective, we're caught up, and you don't know who is what or who. August, Gus, Bruder, he's my…" her eyes scanned the ceiling above their heads while she drummed her left fingers on the table.

"Your _Freund_," Goren offered teasingly, recovered from his feared faux pas.

She rolled her eyes in response, "Yes but I'm not fourteen years old, thanks," she sighed, "_Mein Freund_," she smiled wistfully before continuing, "I had a bit of an accident a few months ago, he kept Bobby in the loop. He works for UNESCO, but the rest of his family runs a brewery and I am beginning to wonder if they're bringing our _domestic_ ale from there." She sat back, titled her head, and bit her bottom lip uncomfortably. "Hey, I'll be back, okay?" She pushed back from the table suddenly, just as the waiter approached. She stood before he had placed the full pilsner glasses or pitcher of beer on the tabletop. Rainy snatched a glass from his tray, took a long sip, set it down, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door before anyone could say a word.

Goren thanked the waiter, who looked mightily confused as he walked away from the table.

"And I thought you had attention span issues," Eames noted, taking a sip from her glass.

A smile singed the corners of his mouth. "She's nervous," he whispered, fingering a bead of condensation on his glass.

Eames tried not to frown. "Maybe I should go?"

Goren's eyes met hers instantly. "No, no. You being here is keeping me from behaving similarly. I appreciate the buffer. I do, Eames, don't go."

She broke his gaze and returned to her glass for another sip of beer. "Been that long, huh?"

Goren continued to wipe beads of sweat from his glass. "Two, three years. I lose track. She travels. I don't think she likes it here very much."

"New York?" Eames asked.

"And the other 49 states," he answered before taking several long gulps from his glass, nearly emptying it. He rubbed his chin, contemplatively. "We've been friends a long time, kept in touch, letters and email mostly, phone calls now and then. This," he motioned at her empty chair, "this is a, a big surprise."

Eames nodded with a hint of compassion in her eyes.

They sat in silence a short time longer before Goren noticed Rainy Jay's hesitant return. She returned her jacket to the back of her chair, smelling slightly of tobacco.

"Better?" Goren asked.

She said nothing, nodded, and took a long drink from her glass.

"So when did you get in?" he attempted as he refilled his own glass.

"I left Hamburg around nine, CET, got here about noon, EST, couple hours navigating public transportation, long nap once I finally arrived at the hotel, then I called you." She smiled faintly.

"I would have picked you up, you know."

"I know," she nodded.

"It's what, nearly one am there now?"

"New York pizza is worth a little jetlag," she teased.

"What do you do in Germany?" Eames took a leap, and injected herself into the conversation.

Rainy fingered her silverware roll for a moment before answering. "Recuperate," she smiled, "I've been…taking a break from my job for a while. Gus is in Germany, and my uncle, my family is too. It's been home, I guess."

"Do you work for the UN also?" Eames continued.

"I wish." Rainy made fleeting eye contact, and instead continued to take great interest in her silverware bundle.

Eames shot Goren a frustrated glance. He read it with practiced ease.

Before anyone could attempt further conversation, their waiter returned with an enormous pizza, a large basket of bread sticks, and a steaming bowl of sauce and set it on the table before them. Rainy Jay beamed. As the smell reached them, Goren and Eames understood her enthusiasm. Hunger overtook them as the trio attacked the large slices of mozzarella and roasted red peppers. They had nearly each consumed a massive slice before anyone spoke.

Goren broke the silence. "So what's your plan, Jay?"

"Cutting right to the chase, huh?"

He began to protest but she cut him off.

"It's okay. I don't really have a plan. I'm just," she shrugged, "I'm just here. I have to be in DC at the beginning of next month. Gus suggested I take some time to myself, figure things out, before I have to figure that out, work, life…" she trailed off and took and evasive bite of pizza.

"Are you from DC?" Eames asked.

Rainy shook her head. "No, Philly. Came to this city for grad school. Worked in DC at the beginning, now, all over."

"Rainy Jay is a citizen of the world," Goren offered, half sincerely, reaching for a new slice.

She smiled, "Right, now if only you can get the IRS to believe that for me." She returned to her pizza for a moment. "I suppose Bobby's not said much about me, not that there's much to say, but, well, I ask him not to, work rules and," she took a bite, "other bureaucratic nonsense." She washed down the remnants of her pizza with the remnants of her beer. "It's kind of silly, I think, but I do what they say, usually." She grabbed a fresh slice and Goren refilled her glass.

"What, you're a government spy or something?" Eames asked sarcastically, refilling her own plate with pizza and bread, while Goren refilled her glass as well.

Rainy laughed. "No, nothing that cryptic. FBI, overseas, 'not your daddy's FBI' I think is the slogan they're using now. Mostly I chase bad guys and money around the desert and complain about the weather."

Eames eyed Goren hesitantly, and he intentionally avoided her gaze.

"Bobby knows quite a few Bureau personnel," Eames asserted, still looking for his eyes.

Rainy looked at him as well, taking another bite of pizza.

"A few," he answered and then quickly finished his drink and poured another.

"Anyways," Rainy offered, feeling the tension, "I'm back on this side of the pond to check in, that sort of thing. I'm overdue for my turn in the hot seat with the boss. I got my team into a mess a few months ago, now I have to answer for it."

"How long are you staying in the city?" Goren asked.

"You really that eager to see me off already?"

"No, uh, I am glad to see you at all especially after, and... But we just caught a new case, and the beginning, you know, it's consuming. If I'd known…" Goren explained.

"It's okay, Bobby. I know how it works." Rainy played with a half-eaten breadstick. "Like I said, I'm just here, alright? I wanted to see you. If this is it, that's okay. If you have time, that's good too. No worries. I don't know how much fun I'll be anyway."

Goren nodded but no one said anything for several moments, instead focused on finishing the food and drinks before them. Their waiter returned, checked on their status, and left the bill.

"Plans for tomorrow?" Goren finally asked.

"A black and white cookie is at the top of my list, otherwise I'm just gonna see where the day takes me," Rainy smiled.

"I hope your hotel has a gym," Goren teased.

Rainy tossed her balled up napkin at him in response and used the distraction as an opportunity to snatch the leather bill binder from near his hand. Goren opened his mouth to protest but Rainy only glared playfully in his direction in response. She retrieved her wallet from her inner coat pocket and slid a credit card into the binder.

"Is it a good one?" she asked Goren, finishing her beverage.

"What?"

"Your case. Something interesting?"

Goren looked to Eames and shrugged slightly. "Couple of college kids at Hudson found dead this morning."

"I heard about that, was all over the TV and radio when I left the airport. Any leads?"

Their waiter came for the bill binder while Goren looked to Eames again, who very subtly nodded her permission. After the waiter retreated in the direction he came, Goren responded. "Two of their roommates haven't turned up yet, but other than that, nothing yet."

"Ah, a true mystery then. Sounds right up your alley." She winked at Eames.

Goren nodded. "We'll see where it goes."

"If you make good headway, I wouldn't mind some company when I find some New York pasta tomorrow night." Rainy smiled as their waiter returned with her card and receipts.

Goren and Eames thanked him for his service while Rainy signed the slips. The trio stood and shouldered their jackets while heading for the exit.

"Where are you staying, we'll give you a lift," Eames offered.

"Hilton on Church," she responded.

"Government work pays that good, huh?" Eames teased as they headed for the SUV.

Rainy shook her head, "Gus. He has a buddy at the UN here, wife or somebody works there. I deal in the currency of favors rather than dollars."

Goren opened the rear passenger door for her before taking his own seat up front.

They buckled their seatbelts and headed for downtown.

* * *

Eames drove the vehicle into the guest loading zone in front of the hotel.

Rainy leaned forward and offered her hand, "Glad to meet you, Detective. Hope to see you again while I'm here."

Eames shook it and nodded.

Meanwhile Goren got out of the car and waved away the approaching valet. He opened Rainy's door and walked with her to the entrance of the hotel.

Rainy stretched her arms up and around his neck, pulling him into an embrace.

"Thanks for dinner, Jay," he whispered into her ear.

"Welcome. Call me tomorrow?"

They separated and Goren nodded. "How should I reach you?"

Rainy searched her pockets. Goren understood her movements, produced one of his own business cards and a pen from his breast pocket, and handed it to her.

She scribbled a telephone number and hotel room number on the back of the card and returned the items. "Good to see you, Bobby." She headed into the hotel without waiting for a response.

Goren lingered a moment longer before rejoining Eames in the SUV.

* * *

Morning came quickly for Goren and Eames. The President of Hudson University had already begun applying pressure to his connections within the City and Police Department, who in turn applied pressure to Captain Ross, who wasted no time relaying their concerns to his detectives.

Goren and Eames spent the morning following up with probable witnesses the uniformed officers had spoken with or been told about the previous day at the crime scene. While they appeared productive to the captain, their efforts bore no additional information.

Near eleven am, Captain Ross approached with an earnest look on his face. The detectives internally prepared their explanations for lack of progress as Captain Ross began to speak. "I just received a terse message from one of the girls you interviewed yesterday. One of the missing returned to the nest. She hung up before I could ask details."

Goren and Eames stood immediately and reached for their coats.

"I also received a message from Dr. Olivet, who informed me you missed an appointment yesterday evening. She said she can squeeze you in before lunch, if you go now." Captain Ross addressed his comments to Goren with a serious glare and low voice.

"Captain, I can reschedule…" Goren began.

"You had your chance to do that, Detective, before she contacted me. Some uniforms and I will meet Eames at Jordanais' apartment after she drops you off."

Goren began to protest again, but his partner glared at him. "What about an interpreter?" he resigned to ask.

"Do you really think that's necessary?" Captain Ross condescended.

"Lucas indicated the language was a problem, if it's Bakr…" Goren again looked to Eames for support.

"We'll figure it out. I'll meet you there, Captain." Eames nodded to the superior officer, finished buttoning her jacket and made way for the elevator.

Her partner grudgingly followed.


	5. Chapter 5

"You could take Rainy Jay with you," Goren stated bluntly, as they buckled their seatbelts.

"What?" Eames missed the seatbelt buckle entirely, looking across to him, "Why?"

"To translate, she's fluent," he responded, as her gaze did not change, "in Arabic."

"I think Ross and I can handle it." Her seatbelt clicked.

"Eames… You heard the roommate. Something isn't right with an exchange student who can't speak the language of his host country, especially at the level necessary for graduate school."

She did not answer until she exited the garage and entered the street, contemplating what she knew versus her options. She shot him a final glance. "You get to explain to the captain."

He smiled in appreciation and took out his cell phone.

* * *

Rainy Jay sat on a bench outside the World Financial Center, staring at the industrial abyss across the street. The buzzing of her Blackberry interrupted her reverie.

She checked the display before answering. "It isn't dinner time yet; barely even lunch."

Goren hesitated. "_I need a favor._"

"Already?" Rainy goaded.

He hesitated again. "_It's the case. How's your Arabic?_"

Silence.

"_Rainy Jay?_"

"Is this favor, friendly and helpful, or of the professional badge carrying variety?"

"_Both._"

"If we could, uh, keep it informal, that would be better."

"_We'll try. Eames will pick you up. Ten minutes. Thanks Jay._"

* * *

Eames reluctantly dropped Goren off at the office of Dr. Olivet, realizing that despite her previously stated conditions, she herself would likely have the responsibility of explaining Rainy Jay's assistance to their captain. She pondered possible explanations as she made way for the hotel.

Rainy leaned against a cement planter smoking a cigarette. Eames identified her and pulled alongside the curb. Rainy tossed the butt into a puddle and approached the car.

She opened the passenger side door with a quizzical gaze. "Where's Bobby?"

"Appointment he couldn't miss. Still coming?"

She nodded and tentatively climbed into the passenger seat.

"So, what do I need to know?" she asked, buckling her seatbelt as Eames pulled back into traffic.

* * *

"Just how rich is this kid?" Rainy asked as Eames parked the SUV in front of a row of Morningside Heights residential buildings.

Eames did not reply, and instead led the way to a trio of men standing outside a building's entrance. Rainy quickly followed, but lingered behind Eames.

Captain Ross, however, noticed her presence immediately. "Who's this?"

Eames turned her shoulder slightly but gave no indication of introduction. "Translator."

Rainy forced a grim smile.

"Later," Ross glowered, indicating the need for delayed explanation, and turned to lead the group into the building.

The silent elevator ride to the top floor did not help calm anyone's nerves. Rainy audibly tapped her fingers against her denim-covered thigh until Eames shot her a frown and released a subtle sigh as the elevator doors opened with a ding.

Ross again took the lead heading to a doorway halfway down the hall. He knocked, and then turned slightly to glance at Eames and Rainy.

Chalise Hanks answered. "Oh, good, it's you." She smiled slightly at Eames and opened the door wider. The group entered, while leaving one uniformed officer behind at the entrance.

Ross noticed Lucas and Kelly first, seated at a table across the room. He briskly walked to them. "I'm Captain Ross. What happened?"

Lucas held a blood soaked cloth to his face, while Kelly sat at his side. "Sidiq came home almost an hour ago. I asked where he'd been, he didn't answer and just went into he and Bakr's room and started looking for something. I kept trying to talk to him, he kept ignoring me. So I backed off and told Chalise to call the cops. When I tried talking to him again, we got into it. Bastard smacked me across the head with an incense bottle and went back in there." He gestured with a finger to a closed door.

Ross nodded to Eames and the other uniformed officer while he took out his cell phone and began dialing.

While Ross spoke to dispatch about medical assistance for Lucas, Eames, with Rainy in tow, and the officer stepped cautiously around the glass and scented sticks while they moved to take sides at the closed door. Eames knocked. "Sidiq? My name is Detective Eames. I need to talk to you about what happened to your friends yesterday." After a moment of no response, she looked to Rainy Jay.

Rainy stepped closer to the door. "_whtha hw shrth. wnhn bahajh ala althdth alyk hwl asdqaeek._" _This is the police. We need to talk to you about your friends._

Eames waited another moment longer before nodding at the officer while taking her weapon from its holster. The officer did the same and turned the doorknob. Eames entered first, Rainy on her heels, followed by the officer. Eames looked to the closet, while the officer took the opposite side of the room.

Rainy headed straight forward towards the window and caught a reflection. Instinct took over. "Going up!" she shouted before hurtling herself through the opening and grasping for the ladder bolted to the brick above.

"Rainy!" Eames shouted in protest, turning towards the window and then quickly back. She motioned at the officer and hurried for the door, ran past Ross and the young people, and out the door of the apartment, the uniformed officer right behind her.

They hit the stairs in a rush, taking the dozen and a half steps two at a time and reached the roof seconds after Sidiq and Rainy Jay. Sidiq neared the rooftop's edge and jumped when he reached it. Rainy did not falter in her pursuit. Eames ran harder, stopping at the edge to notice the adjoining building 20 feet below and the runners headed across its rooftop.

"Radio their direction, get some back up to cut them off," Eames ordered the uniform before running back towards the stairs.

* * *

Rainy Jay chased Sidiq across the adjoining rooftop to its fire escape. They clamored down the ladder to the first platform, then leaped and stumbled down the steps of the remaining platforms, and finally jumped from the lowest level to the hard gravel below. None of this deterred Sidiq's evasiveness, or Rainy's pursuit.

Sidiq hit the sidewalk with a fury while his heavy backpack swung against his shoulders. Rainy matched him stride for stride, only a few steps behind. Initially, the walkways were blessedly barren of pedestrians and the street traffic was light. However, the farther the pair ran from the residential calm, the more contested the streets and sidewalks became.

They darted through another cross street, barely avoiding the oncoming traffic. A bodega with a sidewalk full of lunchtime patrons loomed ahead. Rainy pounded her feet harder and exerted her remaining energy to come within a stride of Sidiq. She let out a pained cry of determination before lunging herself at him, wrapping herself around his upper body, forcing them both to the ground as they skidded to a halt against the cement.

Rainy immediately pulled her concealed glock from her ankle holster with her left hand, while her right hand held Sidiq's face to the ground and her right knee dug into the small of his back.

"_ayda ala rask!_" she ordered as sweat ran down her nose. _Hands on your head._

Sidiq did not comply. She pushed her weapon harder against his side and repeated herself. Slowly Sidiq raised his arms. Rainy let up slightly, pulling his backpack from where it hung at his elbows, and then resumed pressure on his backside. As the pounding in her ears decreased, Rainy became aware of the sirens. She remained postured over Sidiq less than a minute longer before a patrol car came to a screeching halt at the corner.

The officer approached while radioing his status and location to dispatch. Rainy peeled herself away from Sidiq, while pulling on his hands and head to encourage him upwards as well.

"Cuff him, search him, and put him in your car. Get EMS down here to check him out." Rainy ordered, handing control of the suspect over to the officer. She picked up his backpack and handed it to him as well. She unzipped her coat and tucked her pistol into her waistband. Her hands shook with adrenaline as she fumbled through her inner pocket for her badge, which she clipped onto her belt. Still breathing hard, she paced slowly while she waited for Eames.

As expected, Eames was not far behind. She pulled behind the patrol car seconds before an EMS ambulance parked in front of it. She quickly exited the vehicle and assessed the scene around her. There was no property damage, or injured civilians, as far as she could tell. A paramedic stood at the rear passenger side of the patrol car, speaking to Sidiq and the officer. She looked around for Rainy, and located her leaving the bodega with a bottle of water, walking in her direction.

"This your idea of keeping things informal?" Eames asked sharply.

Rainy shrugged. "It was impulsive. I don't like suspects to get away."

Eames stepped back and sighed in frustration. She pointed at Rainy's right hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

Rainy turned her right hand palm side up. "Just some road rash. We took a little tumble. Any chance we can get out of here before your captain shows up? I need to make contact with the local office before he starts asking questions. Cover my ass sort of thing."

Eames nodded in understanding and turned back towards the patrol car she had parked behind.

"He going to live?" she asked the paramedic sarcastically.

"Nothing a little Neosporin won't heal," he responded.

"Good." She turned to the police officer at his side. "When he's done, take him to 1PP and leave him with Major Case."

The officer nodded.

Eames turned to Rainy and gestured to the SUV. "Where to?"

"Uh, my hotel, if you don't mind."

Eames shrugged, fully resigned. They buckled their seatbelts as Eames navigated around the patrol car, ambulance and street gawkers.

Rainy took out her Blackberry and pressed a several keys. "Yeah, this is Special Agent RJ Jansen. Put me through to Arlen Pace. It's urgent."


	6. Chapter 6

"I need to get cleaned up. I can just meet you at your office or,"

"I'm not going back there empty handed." Eames interrupted, shifting into park in front of the hotel.

Rainy raised her hands in surrender and exited the SUV. She instructed the valet as Eames handed over the keys. Rainy silently led Eames inside and to the elevator.

"I'm sorry if I caused trouble for you, Detective," Rainy stated around floor 20. "Bobby has mentioned your captain can be…challenging."

"So can Bobby, and most of his friends," Eames deadpanned.

Rainy nodded with a smile, "Touché."

The elevator chimed as the doors slid open. Rainy led them down the hall, inserted a keycard, and opened the door to 4409. She flipped the light switch, and on the desk just inside the room, she emptied her pockets: gun, badge, wallet, smokes, lighter, and tossed her coat onto the chair.

"There's water and whatnot in there, help yourself," she motioned to the mini-fridge and beyond to the couch and coffee table covered with newspapers and magazines. "I'll be quick." She did not wait for questions before exiting around the corner to bed and bath portion of the room.

Eames took in her surroundings. Small size suit, living area barely large enough to hold a love seat, recliner, desk and chair, coffee table, and counter space over a small refrigerator, with a coffee maker on top. She imagined the bedroom was not much larger. The window's curtains hung tightly closed. Eames took a step to them and with a finger allowed in some light. Across the way was the World Financial Center. Below was the now industrial zone of what had once been the World Trade Center. She emitted a subconscious sigh as she let go of the curtain and turned towards the loveseat.

She heard the shower turn on through the wall. Eames took off her jacket and tossed it onto the recliner, and sat on the loveseat behind the coffee table. She lackadaisically skimmed the newspapers on top, Times, Ledger, and one in a language she did not immediately recognize. Her eyes scanned stories, while her mind absorbed little. Boring of the newspapers, she shifted them aside to find a stack of news magazines featuring full color politicians and global crises of all variety. She shook her head in wearisome amusement and moved them aside as well, inadvertently knocking the entire stack to the floor.

Eames bent to gather up the stack of fallen periodicals, pushing them back together to form one pile that she picked up and placed back on the coffee table. Beneath them, a duct tape bound book lay sprawled on the floor, half beneath the table and half revealed. She pushed it closed; picking it up by is threadbare spine and turned it over to reveal a faint _Holy Bible_ embossment.

The sound of the shower ceased, and Eames knew her solitude would soon be broken, but the detective in her took over as her fingers lightly skimmed the closed edge of the book, pushing on obtruding insertions. She opened the cover, and the creased pages flopped to the left. A photograph of a preschool age Rainy and two adults stuck to Genesis 18. Eames smiled, reading the heavily highlighted verses and absorbing the photo. She pushed on the pages again, allowing them to shift to the next marker in the first chapter of Job, a photo of two dozen tan skinned and bright-eyed children, flanked by four adults, two in navy blue FBI T-shirts and the others in lighter blue emblazoned with a white UN logo, the children in an assortment of similar Ts. Again, she read the most underlined verses, her brow wrinkled as she turned to the last bookmark. This time, the tattered pages threatened to break free of the book. Matthew 18:21 bore signs of repetitious highlighting, "_Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?_" Forgive written repeatedly in the margins around the entire width of the page in various dialects. The picture, too, was well worn. Rainy Jay in full graduation garb indicating completion of a doctoral accomplishment, diploma in hand, flanked on the left by the same, albeit grayer, adults from the first picture, and by a younger Goren on the right. Eames' lips hinted at a smile as she softly traced the faces of the photo.

"Solve a mystery?" Rainy asked from behind, freshly showered, wet hair braided, and suit jacket in her right hand while she adjusted her sidearm with the other.

Eames shoulders jerked in startle. "Sorry, I didn't," she began.

Rainy signaled "stop" with her left hand as she crossed in front of her. "You're a detective. I get that." She sat next to Eames, tossing her suit jacket on top of her previously discarded coat.

"My graduation from Columbia," Rainy stated plainly, gesturing to the book and photo.

Eames nodded and carefully handed her the book.

She flipped back to the first photo. "My parents, Dietrich and Sushan, on the day they finalized my adoption. I was five. They were… older. The whole thing seemed somewhat impractical, but it worked out. They said they felt like Abraham and Sarah."

Eames smiled as Rainy flipped to the next photo.

"Gus," she pointed to a blue eyed, blond haired man in light blue, "and my partner Eric," she pointed to the imposing-but-friendly looking man next to her in the photo wearing navy blue. "Sports…soccer, they're a great unifier out there. On the field, nobody is a Sunni or a Shiite, or a Christian or a Jew, just kids playing a game. Although, the team FBI kids kicked the UN's ass." She smiled fondly but her hand visibly trembled as it lingered above the photo before turning the pages.

She handed the third picture back to Eames and set the book on the coffee table.

"My _tatik_… my maternal grandmother, suffered from dementia late in life. My parents traveled a lot, so they put her in a place close to where I was, from the city here. I'd go visit, and some days all she would do was yell at me in Armenian about why wouldn't I take her home to Yerevan. Despite our lack of physical similarities, she usually thought I was my mother. When she was too far gone into her delusions, I'd walk around, visit other residents until she calmed down or until I left. I met Mrs. G there; she was a favorite on a good day. I met Bobby later when he came home from the Army, but I didn't know much about him."

Rainy smiled, shook her head and shifted uncomfortably. "Tatik passed away not long after that, and I stopped going out there. I ran into Bobby by chance in the city, we decided to grab a bite and talk and things just developed from there." She shifted in her seat again before continuing. "We were happy for a while, you know? We talked about our future in white picket fence terms. I was about to finish my doctorate, had been accepted to Columbia Law and he was a rising star in the police department. Things were good.

"That February," she gestured at the photo, "was the first Trade Center bombing." She stood and began very Bobby-esque pacing in the small area opposite Eames and the coffee table. "My father, Dee, he was an ecumenical Lutheran pastor with the age-old mission of unifying Judaism and Christianity. He mostly taught, but they were always off some place for research or outreach. He and Sue were here in New York when the bombing happened and all of a sudden, they were in the midst of this fresh interest in this mysterious land known as the Middle East. Everybody wanted to know who these people were and why were they trying to hurt us, us Americans, you know? Dee already had strong ties to several countries out there and decided it was time to start reaching out to more than just Jews and Christians. So they, he and Sue and their friends, started holding these big," she gesticulated widely, "get to know Islam events, teaching, preaching and studying with renewed interest and fervor. They contacted their associates in Israel, planned outreach missions to go and work with the Jews, Christians, and Muslims. It was all very optimistic. My graduation was that May, and they left a few days after. I planned to join them for the summer, but Bobby and I had scheduled a little celebratory vacation first.

"There he and I were, soaking up the surf and sand on the Jersey Shore and I get this phone call, saying my peaceful, optimistic parents who had dedicated their lives to loving people; who had spent years and years in Israel and all over, helping the people… They were preparing to leave Jerusalem for Tel Aviv and a car bomb exploded outside their facility, two dozen missionaries and humanitarians, different backgrounds, different faiths, all killed."

Rainy stopped pacing and stood still, eyes smoldering into the closed curtains in front of her. "And the worst of it is," she whispered after a moment, "the people who claimed responsibility, it wasn't the Palestinians, Hamas, the PLO, Hezbollah, none of the usual suspects. It was the Israelis. The people my parents had worked so long to help, and they just, killed them and none of their good works mattered." She sank into the chair she had early thrown her coats onto, still avoiding any type of eye contact with Eames, and breathed for a moment.

"I was mad. Really, really mad. I wanted to go out there and kick their asses for it." She shook her head disdainfully. "My first impulse was to join the military. Bobby talked me out of that one. So, I mourned, brooded and sent out applications to the FBI, CIA, DEA, the whole damn alphabet. Bobby tried to talk me out of that also, but I was determined. I wanted, I needed to do something. The FBI called back first and because of my language skills, within a year I was working 30 miles from where my parents had been killed."

She leaned back and sighed then leaned forward, hunched with her forearms on her knees, staring at the floor. "I'm not some sort of blood thirsty, vengeful person. I just wanted justice, you know? After a while, I wanted more than justice for my loss, but for America's losses, every American who had stepped out there for the sake of the greater good or otherwise and been wronged as thanks. It worked for me. I thought I was doing right, investigating real crimes and catching real bad guys, finding justice, black and white, good versus evil…" she caught Eames eyes for the first time in the few minutes of her confession.

Rainy stood again, moved back towards the window, and pulled on the cord, sweeping the curtains away. She blinked in the sunlight. "Then that happened," she gestured to the window, "and everything changed again. Nothing is black and white anymore and instead of investigating crimes we can prove, or bringing justice to our people we have to chase these, these apparitions. And because that wasn't satisfying enough, we start this ridiculous war, _war_ on a _verb_. A verb, a, a tactic! War on Terror. What the hell does that even mean? Who am I looking for? I've been asking for years, for a name, for a face, something tangible and I still can't get a straight answer," she sighed, clouding the window glass as she leaned her forehead against it. "So now, we just chase this fantasy of justice, lying to ourselves that we're still doing good, doing right, when we're hardly doing anything at all." She rolled her head against the window before pushing off it and turning back towards the chair and sinking down again.

She bit at her fingertips while looking to the open window. She cleared her throat. "Eight months ago I was in Baghdad. My team and I, we were looking for this apparition, this, terrorist," she spat the word with contempt, "I got a big tip, I wanted to follow it fast, not let it slip away. My partner, Eric, wanted to wait, jump through the bureaucratic hoops of validation and permission. I told him no. Said I was sick of sitting on my hands, never closing a case, never having a living person to slap cuffs on. Never having results. Told him, I'm sick of this nonsense and following the lead with or without you. He acquiesced, said I'm your partner, hell and back, and we're already in hell. So he came along; me, him and two of our government protection grunts. We weren't on the highway thirty minutes and our humvee is hit with an RPG from God knows where. Next thing I know, I'm alone, fifteen feet away, smashed and broken in the dirt with the truck smoldering in the street and Eric at the wheel." She paused and cleared her throat before whispering, "_Lord giveth, and Lord taketh away._" She brushed her fingers across her eyelids, but instead of tears, her emotions poured out of her mouth.

"And now, here I am, back in this country that I've gone from venerating to hating, to just plain wishing I could rid myself of altogether, waiting for my own personal inquisition," She leaned forward and put her face in her hands. "I will be truly sorry if the NYPD ends up as another blotch on my warpath of self destruction. That was definitely not on my to do list when I called Bobby yesterday. But there you have it." She sat up straight, arms stretched at her sides. "Rainy Jay Jansen in a nutshell. Now at least you know who I really am when your captain starts quizzing you when we walk into that squad room." She leaned forward again to put her face in her hands, jerking back when her chin made contact with the sticky road rash of her hand.

Eames exhaled cautiously, eyes searching the room, overwhelmed. She gazed at the photo she still held before placing it back into the pages of the bible and hesitated before asking, "What happened?"

"To what?" Rainy pushed through pens in the pocket of her computer bag under the desk she sat in front of.

"The white picket fences."

Rainy finally produced a band-aid from another pocket in the bag, unwrapped it and placed it over the wound on her hand while answering. "He said joining the Bureau was a mistake, that I shouldn't go, that it wouldn't get me what I wanted and everything would change. I didn't listen, went anyway. Took me a long time to realize he was right. I'm lucky he stayed a good friend despite my ignorance." She stood and began gathering the items she had left on the desk, gun back in ankle holster, badge on belt next to her holstered sidearm, suit jacket and coat on, smokes, lighter and wallet back into coat pocket. She lifted the computer bag to the desk and slid the bible into one of its larger pockets. "I'm sorry for the soapbox. Your captain is probably dancing like a cat on a hot tin roof by now."

Eames nodded, not knowing what to say. Instead she simply stood, put on her jacket, and followed Rainy to the door.

* * *

Meanwhile, Danny Ross walked into the 1PP bullpen clearly fit of pique. He stormed passed Goren's desk with his finger pointed at the detective. "My office. Now."

Goren had barely returned himself and only just sat at his desk. He nearly began to question his superior before catching himself, taking a breath, standing, and following his captain to the room ahead. He entered, closing the door gently behind him.

"Who the hell was with your partner this morning?" The captain nearly shouted while pulling his arms from his overcoat and tossing it onto the back of his chair with clear irritation.

"With… My… Uh," Goren staggered, clueless to the events in Morningside Heights, "I asked someone to go along, translate if need be, she's a…"

"A lunatic!" Ross interrupted, his hands on his waist, "And a huge liability to the department! What were you thinking involving an unauthorized civilian in a police investigation?"

"Uh, beg pardon, sir," Goren tilted his head in bewilderment, "A, a lunatic?"

"She chased the suspect up a ladder, across a roof, jumped off a building, and attacked the man several blocks away!"

Goren withheld a smirk and brushed his forefingers across his chin. "Well, if she got the guy," he shrugged.

Ross cast him a contemptible glare before retrieving his coat from the chair and a hanger from his coat rack. "It's still a liability I'm holding you responsible for, Detective." He hung up his coat and moved to his chair.

Goren contemplated while rocking slightly on his heels. He extended his left arm, away from his bearded chin, about to speak but interrupted by a light tap at the door. He looked to Ross for permission, who nodded, and Goren opened the door.

He moved aside for his partner and Rainy Jay to enter the office.

Catching sight of them, Captain Ross immediately rose from the chair he had sunk into moments before. "Detective," he glared at Eames, "and…"

"Special Agent Rainy Jay Jansen," Rainy offered her hand, "I apologize for not properly introducing myself earlier today."

Ross begrudgingly accepted her greeting, but continued to scowl. "FBI? You must be new to the New York Bureau. Allow me to acquaint you with how joint cooperation with the NYPD works."

Rainy began to protest but felt Goren bump her elbow. She grinded her teeth together, bracing for whatever Ross was about to offer.

Thankfully, before the captain could begin, his office phone beeped and woman's voice spoke, "Captain Ross? Supervisory Special Agent Pace, FBI, line two."

"Thank you," Ross grunted, continuing to survey the trio in front of him. "You two," he pointed at Goren and Eames, "out. You," he motioned at Rainy, "sit."

Goren opened the door and his partner led the way from the office.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Eames muttered as the door clicked closed.

"Rainy Jay can hold her own," Goren began but was cut off by Eames' glare, which clearly read _that wasn't what I meant_. He stopped speaking, startled by her sudden silent abrasion, and followed her to their desks.

Once seated, Eames avoided his glances, busying herself with the papers that had accumulated in her absence.

"Did she really jump off the building?" Goren asked, suddenly.

"And onto another," Eames answered tersely, still not looking up.

Goren too turned to the papers on his desk, turning his eyes up to his partner every few seconds, but she continued to ignore him. Though the blinds blocked any view of the interior of the captain's office, his gaze drifted in that direction in between his looks to Eames. The papers on his desk remained untouched and unread.

Without Goren's immediate notice, the captain's door opened. Ross strode to their desks, his body language unrevealing.

He stood rigidly for a moment before speaking. "Agent Jansen will be providing linguistcal support for this case, as well as any other expertise you find useful. As much as we might like to deny it, when individuals of certain origins, like Mr. Fayyad and Mr. Okaly, become embroiled in cases such as these, it makes people nervous. While I'm sure the worry of those people in this case is unfounded, Agent Jansen will liaison if necessary." He cleared his throat deliberately before warning, "Keep an eye on her."

Eames said nothing, only nodded her understanding, while Goren hid a knowing smile behind his hand, on which his head was propped. He raised an eyebrow upon noticing Rainy's approach from the captain's office.

She joined the group at the desks and said nothing, only looked to Ross expectantly, waiting for instructions.

"Mr. Fayyad is in holding. Get me something I can take upstairs." Ross turned and left the group, heading back the direction he came.


	7. Chapter 7

Goren, Eames and Rainy gathered up files pertinent to the case and relocated themselves into a conference room. Goren and Eames sorted through the files while Rainy read the congested bulletin board.

"You won Ross over pretty quick," Goren commented.

Rainy shook her head as she pulled out a chair to sit. "Called in a favor. Agent Pace's kid brother and I were in the same office for a while. They both have a special way with words, and very good timing."

Goren smiled.

Eames settled back in her chair, a file opened in front of her. "Here we go. Sidiq Fayyad, 24 years old, hometown is Medina, Saudi Arabia. He's been in the country a little over two years on a student visa, same program as Campbell and Lucas. His visa expires in June, so I hope he is planning on graduating."

"Holy city…very beautiful, very Muslim. It's where they buried Muhammad." Rainy offered.

Goren nodded, "What does it say about his family?"

Eames continued skimming the file provided to her by the University. "Father is a farmer, family's livelihood, it looks like."

"Crops are a big part of their economy, fruits and vegetables, dates especially. But the industry has been affected by the oil business, fight for water rights and whatnot. Understandable if he would want to get away from that type of work, and if he's the only one in his family…" Rainy began.

"Probably a point of contention," Goren finished.

Rainy nodded, "Farming doesn't have the prestige it used to. Medina is also undergoing a huge cultural shift with this _Knowledge Economic City_ project that is aimed to bring Saudi Arabia to the forefront of knowledge, technology based industries, by offering incentives and opportunities to young entrepreneurs, among other things," she paused and smiled, "One project in consideration is a theme park based on the life of Muhammad.

"The Medina leg of the project officially began around the time Sidiq came out here. I would be surprised if he made it here without some sort of backing from at least one of those interested parties. At any rate, I'm sure he has a lot riding on the completion of his degree and his experiences, and returning home with honor and the expertise needed to assist his country, and to prove something to his family, no doubt."

"Maybe has to do with how he got hooked up with the Jordanais," Goren offered.

Eames nodded and continued reading the file to herself but did not offer any additional information aloud. Goren continued shifting through other files on the desk, brow furrowed in thought.

"Do we have his backpack someplace?" Rainy asked.

"I'll check." Goren left the room, entered another, and returned seconds later with an open box.

He set it on the table and removed the heavy backpack. He unzipped the bag and began unloading its contents. A leather bound book was on top, he opened it and handed it to Rainy without hesitation, its handwritten text was entirely in Arabic. He continued emptying the bag, change of clothes, basic toiletries, another book he could not read, and finally a hefty rolled mat.

"Prayer mat?" he asked waving the roll side to side before setting it next to the box.

Rainy nodded, "A _musalla, _for _Ṣalat_. Being from Medina, he is probably very religious."

Eames stood and held up the pants from the bag. "And very bad at laundry. Either he shrunk these jeans, or I bet he knows where to find Bakr."

Rainy set aside the first book Goren handed her, and moved to the second. She flipped only a few pages before several papers fell in her lap. "I'll second that bet." She held up a dark green passport emblazoned with a square, golden eagle, issued by the Egyptian government.

* * *

Sidiq Fayyad stood six feet tall, skinny as a beanpole. Thin round frames accented his dark eyes when his thick and shaggy black hair did not hang sloppily in front of them. He sat hunched in his chair, chin in hands, feet bouncing nervously against the floor beneath him.

He straightened reflexively in his chair with a startle at the entrance of the detectives.

"Mr. Fayyad, I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Goren, and I'm sure you remember Agent Jansen from this morning." Eames and Goren sat down across from him, while Rainy lingered behind them, leaning against the side of the mirrored glass.

Eames looked to Goren, who cut right to the chase. "We need to ask you about your friends," he opened his binder and produced two glossy photos, courtesy of the morgue, "Emily Choi," he snapped the photos down separately, "and Campbell Brown."

Sidiq brought his fist to his mouth, his hand and wrist noticeably wrapped in white gauze from his earlier capture. He shook his head furiously while his eyes watered and he wiped at his nose. "No, no, no!" He pushed the photos away while flinging himself out of his chair and to his feet. "I did not do this!" he shouted.

"tjls!" Rainy shouted back. _Sit down!_

Sidiq paced the length of the table, running his uninjured hand through his hair and straightening his glasses. He glared at Rainy.

"ajls!" She moved from the wall and took a step in his direction. _Sit!_

Sidiq grudgingly took his place in his chair. Goren never took his eyes off him. Eames shot Rainy a wary glance.

"Sidiq, if you did not do this, what are you running from?" Goren asked with a head tilt.

The younger man squared in his chair, lining himself up more directly with Goren's patient gaze. His jaw clenched and unclenched, while his breathing evened out, but he said nothing.

Goren attempted again. "Okay. How about your friend, Bakr Okaly, do you know where we can find him? Maybe he would like to tell us about your friends."

Sidiq's eyes grew impossibly darker, but his posture did not change. "I have nothing to say to you."

Before Goren could respond, Rainy stepped directly behind him, hands in pockets. "_wmatha an ly_?" _What about me?_

Sidiq turned his head and spat on the floor. His eyes did not rise to meet any of the investigators.

Rainy shrugged with indifference and left the room.

Goren looked to Eames, whose look mimicked the shrug, and then back to Sidiq, whose face was vacant of any emotion. Then, he too led the way out of the interrogation room.

* * *

Rainy Jay met the detectives outside the room.

"That went well," she deadpanned.

"Guess he needs some more time to think about it," Goren commented, leading the way back towards their desks. Once there he turned to Rainy as he took his seat. "Can you go over those books, papers, he had with him, see if anything indicates where Bakr might be holed up?"

Rainy nodded and headed back to the conference room.

"So if he isn't going to talk to you and he isn't going to talk to her, should we street him, see if he leads us to Bakr?" Eames suggested aloud.

"Maybe, but not yet." Goren opened a file and busied himself with its contents.

Eames took the hint and did the same.

* * *

The hours passed without distraction before Goren noticed movement in the conference room. Rainy moved through the room, dug through the evidence box on the table, and finally left towards the jailed holding area, items in hand.

"What's she doing?" Eames asked, having noticed her also.

"I don't know," Goren answered, bemused.

* * *

"Take a break," Rainy offered commandingly to the officer on duty in the room.

He hesitated a moment before nodding and exiting the room.

Sidiq did not move from where he sat on the bunk seat.

Rainy hesitantly approached the gate that separated them. She poked the rolled _musalla_ through the bars. "Time to get right with your God."

Sidiq's eyes bore into her own while he considered her offer. After a moment, he stood and pulled the mat through the bars, without a blink.

"That way," Rainy pointed East, towards the wall behind Sidiq.

With a final lingering stare, Sidiq turned, unfurled the mat on the floor, and knelt.

Rainy backed off towards the opposite wall, pulled a chair from the table against it to face the cell, sat, and pulled her own Bible from under her arm.

Goren and Eames watched the officer exit the holding room and enter the break room. Their curiosity officially peaked, neither wanted to be the first to investigate.

"You should probably check on them," Eames suggested after a few minutes of consideration.

Goren nodded, pushed away from his desk and walked to the room. He stood just within the entrance, where Eames could still see him. When he did not continue inward, or return to his desk, Eames followed.

Sidiq stood on the _musalla_, in the middle of his second _raka'ah_. His voice emitted a quiet, steady cadence of Arabic speech, while Rainy sat, head bowed, contritely whispering the words along with him in English.

_Bismillāhi r-raḥmāni r-raḥīm _

_In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful:_

_Al ḥamdu lillāhi rabbi l-'ālamīn _

_Praise be to God, the Lord of the Universe. _

_Ar raḥmāni r-raḥīm _

_The Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. _

_Māliki yawmi d-dīn _

_Master of the Day of Judgment. _

_Iyyāka na'budu wa iyyāka nasta'īn _

_You alone we worship, and You alone we ask for help _

_Ihdinā ṣ-ṣirāṭ al mustaqīm _

_Guide us to the straight path; _

_Ṣirāṭ al-laḏīna an'amta 'alayhim ġayril maġḍūbi 'alayhim walāḍ ḍāllīn _

_The path of those whom You have favored, not of those who have deserved Your anger, nor of those who stray._

Sidiq the bowed twice, until his palms met his knees, while he continued his prayer.

_sami'a-llahu liman hamidah_

_God hears those who give thanks to Him_

_Rabbana laka-lhamd_

_Grateful praise to You, our Lord_

_mil'u-lsamawati wa-mil'ul'ard_

_as much as the heavens and earth contain_

Sidiq knelt, prostrating during his recitation. _almjd lrbai akthr madhm aalyh tsthq althna'a_

_Glory to my Lord, the Most High Most Praiseworthy_

He rose to his knees. _Allah-hum maghfirli. Allah, forgive me._ He then repeated his prostration, and settled on his knees once more, continuing to speak in his native tongue.

_at tahiyyātu lillāhi, was-salawātu wat-tayyibātu. as-salāmu alayka ayyu han-nabiyyu wa rahmatullāhi wa barakātuh. as salāmu alaynā wa 'alā ibādillā his-sālihīn. ash-hadu al lā ilāha illallāhu wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadan abaduhū wa rasūluh._

_All greetings, blessings and good acts are from You, my Lord. Greetings to you, O Prophet, and the mercy and blessings of Allah. Peace be unto us, and unto the righteous servants of Allah. I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship except Allah. And I bear witness that Muhammad is His servant and messenger._

The uniformed officer returned with a cup of coffee and looked curiously over Eames' shoulder.

"What are they doing?" he whispered.

"Praying," Goren acknowledged quietly.

No one spoke. Sidiq continued kneeling on his mat, now whispering to himself too quietly for even Rainy to hear, so she sat silently, eyes closed, leaned on her elbows, hands clenched around her grayed book.

Goren looked to Eames and gestured behind him with his head. She nodded and followed him back to their desks, leaving the officer behind.

"Interesting interrogation technique," Eames commented after settling again at her desk.

Goren shrugged and raised his eyebrows in resignation. "If it works."

* * *

After several more moments of near-silence, Rainy raised her head to see Sidiq rerolling the _musalla_. She stood, placing her Bible on the chair she vacated. She moved towards the cell and took the mat from where Sidiq offered it. His face glistened with sweat.

Rainy took the mat and set it on the chair with her book before turning back to Sidiq. She contemplated him a moment before taking a yellow legal pad and black pen from the desk. She tucked the pad under her arm and fidgeted with the pen.

"_matha hdth_?" she asked. _What happened?_

Sidiq leaned his forehead against the bars, averting his eyes from hers.

"_ana la aar._" _I do not know._

"What do you know?"

He looked up at her tentatively before returning his head to the bars. He spoke through a subtle accent in a barely audible whisper. "I left with Lucas. We came home. I went to sleep. Bakr woke me. It was very early. He said he needed help. We went outside, to the hall. He said Emily was dead. He found her, by the dumpster. He was afraid the police would not believe his innocence. He said he must hide and get away. I helped him find a safe place. We talked. I came back to get his things. Lucas confronted me. He wanted to know where I had been and where was Bakr. He said Emily was dead and so was Campbell. I did not know about Campbell. Bakr said nothing of Campbell. I did not believe Lucas. He accused Bakr and me. We argued. I hit him. Then you came."

Rainy bent the pad and pushed it and the pen through the bars. "_bakr ayn hw_?" _Where is Bakr?_

Sidiq took the items and wrote. He passed them back through the bars. Rainy looked at the page and tore off the top sheet. She passed the paper and pen back through the bars.

"Write it all down, everything you know, Sidiq. Everything you did, everyone you talked to, everyone you saw at the party. Anything from yesterday until today, before the party until now. Write it all down, Arabic or English, I don't care."

Sidiq nodded and turned back towards the bunk and sat.

Rainy picked up her Bible and the _musalla_. "He's all yours," she commented to the officer as she exited the room.

Rainy returned to Goren and Eames' desks. She dropped the contents of her hands onto Goren's desk, next to the file he pretended to read. She pulled her coat off the rack without further glance at either detective. "I'll be outside." She left for the elevators.

Goren picked up the piece of yellow paper, which read "Gebelawi's House, Long Island City." He handed Eames the sheet. "Gebelawi was a primary character in Naguib Mahfouz's _Children of the Alley_. He symbolized religion, and the story was about the expulsion of various holy men, Adam, Jesus, Muhammad, Moses, Satan, from his house. It's banned in most middle eastern countries. Interesting name for a hostel."

Eames' eyebrows raised in amusement. She paused, waiting to see if his literature lesson was over, before reaching for the phone. "I'll get some units out there."

Goren nodded. "I'll find Rainy. Meet you in the garage."


	8. Chapter 8

Goren found Rainy Jay leaning against the cement wall that divided police headquarters from the rest of the plaza, near the guardhouse and the building's main entrance.

"Those are gonna kill you," Goren offered while entering her field of vision.

Rainy nodded and blew smoke out her nose. She dropped the butt to the ground and squished it with her toe, while shaking loose a fresh cigarette from the olive-green package. Goren frowned while she lit it, inhaled, and handed it to him.

He accepted, taking a tentative puff before grimacing, "That's horrible."

She retrieved the smoke from his fingers and nodded. "So is the desert." She looked to her shoes and turned away. "Thought you'd be after your boy?"

"I still need your help, Jay."

Rainy scowled and focused on smoking to avoid eye contact. After another pensive moment, she flicked the cigarette towards a puddle and shrugged. "Let's go."

* * *

Goren, Rainy Jay and Eames met at the SUV nearly simultaneously.

Eames navigated the traffic into Queens while Goren reviewed his notes. Rainy sat behind him, gazing at the passing city while chewing on her thumb. The minutes passed silently.

Gebelawi's House centered on a street marked with Middle Eastern cuisine and culture.

"Good place to blend in," Eames commented while pulling alongside the curb.

A set of uniformed officers met them a building before their destination. Eames directed one of them to pass through the alley and identify alternative exits, and the other to accompany them to watch the front door.

Three young adults sat on the steps leading up to the hostel's main entrance. They spoke in jumbled English, clearly not native to the country. The youths smiled cordially but made no effort to move as the trio ascended the steps and into the inside.

Goren approached the front desk first, providing a gentle smile and nod of the head. "Excuse me," he began as the dark haired desk attendant shifted his attention, "I'm looking for this gentleman, I believe he might have checked in early this morning?" Goren produced a photo of Bakr Okaly, courtesy of the Hudson's admissions office.

The attendant hesitated, examining the photo with interest. "Is he in trouble?"

Goren leaned on the desk nonchalantly. "We just need to talk to him."

Eames took a step towards him, reinforcing their urgency and authority.

Rainy Jay appeared generally disinterested, instead taking in the lobby's art and furnishings.

The clerk pushed the photo towards Goren. "I don't know. We have privacy requirements. I cannot say."

Eames approached the desk outright. "Look," she paused, reading his nametag, "Hasad, he's not in trouble, but he is a witness to a crime. He's probably afraid. We just want to help him. If he is here, you'd be doing him and us a favor. Let us help him."

Hasad touched the photo again contemplatively. Finally, he nodded. "He was, but he left."

"Did he check out?" Goren asked.

Hasad stepped back and pulled out the handwritten ledger. "No, he paid cash when he got here this morning. He could come back, or he might not. He paid for 24 hours, so until tomorrow morning."

"How did he check in, with an ID, what?" Rainy asked, still a few feet behind the group.

"He had a passport," Hasad ran a finger across the ledger.

Rainy rushed the counter while Goren and Eames straightened in surprise. "From where?" She reached behind the counter and tugged the book out from beneath Hasad's hands.

"Hey!" he protested.

Goren held up a hand for him to be quiet.

"It will not say there!" Hasad protested as Rainy skimmed the list of names with her finger while Goren and Eames read over her shoulders.

Rainy paused. "This says is al-Bakr, is that him?"

"Yes, he was the first I checked in today." Hasad nodded, eyes wide.

Rainy stepped back from the counter while Goren rubbed the back of his neck.

"Did he leave any luggage, personal belongings?" Goren asked.

Hasad shook his head. "No, he did not rent a locker, just paid for a bed. He did not have anything with him this morning."

"Give me one of your cards." Rainy mumbled to Goren, who complied. She stepped back to the counter, placing the card on top of the photo. "Listen," she spoke in a firm whisper, "when al-Bakr comes back, you will call this number and you will tell us. You will not tell al-Bakr that we are looking for him. If you do, I will come back here with a dozen guys bigger than him," she gestured to Goren with a flinch, "and we will tear this place apart. Do you understand?"

Hasad's brown face paled and he nodded. "Yes ma'am. As soon as he returns, I will call. I will not leave until he is here if I must and I will call."

Rainy nodded, turned sharply and exited. Goren looked to Eames, who gave him the same _bad idea_ glare as she had earlier in the day. He nodded at Hasad and followed Eames out of the building.

At the bottom of the stairs, Eames instructed the uniformed officer to get back with his partner and sit on the location. Goren provided him with a headshot of Bakr.

They found Rainy pacing outside the SUV, furiously typing on her Blackberry while drawing heavily on a nearly consumed cigarette.

"Was that really necessary?" Goren asked, his tone serious.

Rainy shook loose a fresh cigarette without meeting his gaze. "You asked for my help. This is me helping."

Goren looked to Eames and quickly away after meeting her disapproving stare again.

Rainy lit her cigarette and paced to the end of the car, and hesitated before proceeding onward past it and the detectives.

"Where are you going?" Goren's patience waned.

"To the Noguchi," Rainy joked, turning to face them while continuing to walk backwards. "Call me in the morning, unless you decide you need but don't want more help before then." She turned again, not waiting for a response.

Goren rubbed his neck and bit his lip. Eames frowned and shifted uncomfortably.

* * *

"Maybe we should get someone from the Joint Terrorism Taskforce," Eames began, after several contemplative miles of silence.

Goren held up a hand and shook his head before she could finish. "She'll be okay."

"Bobby," Eames began again, choosing her words carefully but deliberately, "the NYPD can handle this."

Goren covered his mouth with his hand, gazing out the window. Finally, he nodded, avoiding eye contact, "Okay. You're right."

Eames nodded her thanks, masking her relief, and focused on the road.

* * *

Captain Ross ostensibly materialized out of nowhere as Goren and Eames hung their coats.

"I take it you've made no progress tracking down Mr. Okaly," he observed morosely.

"We have a unit sitting on the hostel where he was last seen," Eames replied.

"And Agent Jansen?"

Eames looked to Goren. "We'll be in touch," he picked up.

Ross nodded. "Jack Jordanais is in the conference room." He turned his body language expectant of his detectives to follow.

Goren looked to his shoes and sighed, while Eames squared her shoulders and led the way.

* * *

"Mr. Jordanais, these are the detectives assigned to Campbell and Emily's case, Goren and Eames."

Jack stood, buttoning his tailored suit, and shook their hands. "Thank you, detectives. Christian is at home; he didn't feel up to coming up here just yet."

"Christian, he's Campbell's father?" Goren asked, opening his binder.

"Yes, we got on a plane as soon as we could, after Lucas called. Christian is quite distraught."

Goren nodded and made a note. "You're very close."

"Christian's been my personal assistant for over twenty years; Lucas and Campbell are like brothers. This whole ordeal has been very tragic for both our families."

"Do you know of anyone that would want to harm either of the boys, or their friends?" Eames asked, treading carefully.

"No," Jack shook his head furtively, "No, no one." He wiped his chin with his fingertips. "Do you really think Sidiq and Bakr had something to do with this?"

Eames looked to Goren who answered, "We don't know yet."

"How well do you know them?" Eames continued.

Jack straightened in his chair. "Sidiq was selected by my employer to attend Hudson on scholarship through our foundation. I never met him prior to his moving in with Lucas. His resume was impeccable; I had no qualms about placing him with my son. I still don't, unless you have reason for me to believe otherwise." He paused for comment, and continued when there was none. "I've never met Bakr. I only know what I've been told about him by the boys."

"And what's that, Mr. Jordanais?" Goren asked.

Jack shrugged. "He's not as linguistically advanced as most of their other foreign friends. He's quiet, but a diligent student, and always eager to follow along with them. He's always sounded like an average college boy exploring a new world unlike his own."

Goren continued making notes in his binder. Eames caught Ross's eyes, but before he could speak, Jack interjected.

"If you've no plans to charge Sidiq, may I please take him home?"

Eames and Goren looked at one another, both pairs of eyebrows raised.

"You do know he assaulted your son earlier today?" Eames asked.

Jack nodded. "A misunderstanding caused by emotional distress. They'll be fine."

"We haven't been able to locate Bakr, and we think Sidiq might know how to find him. If we release him, we will expect you to let us know if he does make contact with Bakr." Goren offered.

"Yes, absolutely. If you need more help, anything at all, my firm has offered all its resources, I have friends at the FBI…"

Goren held up his fingers, his thumb wrapped around his pencil. "We've got it covered. Your firm, what does it do?"

"Global banking, investing, provides capital to small corporations to produce urban development in underdeveloped countries; I coordinate amongst embassies to place scholarship worthy students in educational programs. The bank is willing to post a reward." He waited while Goren made another note. "If there's nothing else, I really need to get back to Christian."

Ross stood. "Thank you for coming down, Mr. Jordanais. I'll collect Mr. Fayyad for you and an officer can drive you home."

Jack nodded. Goren closed his notebook while he and Eames stood and followed Ross from the room.

* * *

Goren scratched his neck, looking to his partner and captain. "I wonder if a misunderstanding during emotional distress had anything to do with Campbell and Emily's death."

"I wonder if his relationship with Christian blinds the possibility," Eames deadpanned.

"Their relationship is irrelevant. You still have a missing roommate and no leads. I need something more than that to take upstairs." He looked to his watch, barely visible below his sagging rolled sleeve. "Wrap it up for tonight, but I can't hold off the brass much longer."

Goren continued his nervous head and neck rubbing as he and Eames settled back in their desks. Captain Ross entered the holding room. Eames began piling up the day's accumulated paperwork and Goren leaned on his elbows, his chin in his hands.

"Bright and early?" Eames asked, sliding her computer into her bag with a few files.

Goren nodded without making eye contact.

Eames shouldered her coat and bag, pushed in her chair, and headed for the exit. Moments later Ross escorted a pale and rumpled Sidiq Fayyad to the conference room. He watched through the blinds as Jack Jordanais shook the younger man's hand. The door reopened and Ross directed the men to a uniformed officer just outside the bullpen. Ross passed Goren a final stare before retreating to his office. Goren turned his attention back to his desk. He poked at the rolled musalla Rainy Jay had left on his desk. It fell to the floor, knocking Rainy's old bible along with it. He picked it up with a familiar picture fallen from its pages. He set it on top, scrubbed his face with his hands, and contemplated his next move.


	9. Chapter 9

Goren found Rainy Jay sitting in the middle of the rearmost pew at Trinity Church in Lower Manhattan. He slid in silently onto the bench next to her, setting a bag between them.

"Am I that easy to track down?" she whispered without turning to acknowledge him.

He shook his head no, "I started at St. Paul's."

"St. Paul's doesn't have the stained glass. Dee always loved churches with stained glass, especially this one. Beauty in the midst of chaos, he would say."

Goren nodded, "I remember. They don't make them like this anymore."

"They don't make a lot of things the same anymore."

He said nothing, instead fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she offered.

He waved her off.

"I think I antagonize your partner."

He shook his head. "Not like I do."

Rainy looked to him for the first time since his appearance. "Things are still rough?"

He hesitated, "They aren't the same."

"You ought to do something about that," Rainy affirmed, returning her stare to the stained glass ahead.

"I don't know that I can, or should."

Rainy made a face. "She's your partner, Bobby. She's used to putting up with your bullshit."

He shook his head, "She shouldn't have to."

"Maybe she wants to. Why else put in all the time?"

Goren rubbed his neck nervously. "I brought your bag," he changed the subject. "You left it at the office. I thought you might need it. That too." He motioned at the unzipped corner of the bag where her Bible protruded.

Rainy nodded her thanks and forced the zipper closed. She rested her arm across the top of the bag. "I'm sorry, Bobby, that I didn't come back when your mom was sick. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, as you were for me. I'm sorry that I let my job be in the way. People, this little bit of time we get together as people, it's too short for these excuses." She shook her head. "It's weird. I hadn't talked to her in years, and we hadn't written in a while, but now, I think I miss her, almost like I miss my own."

Goren struggled to inhale as he tipped his head forward, nodding. "Me too," he whispered.

"Look, my point is I've been there, perhaps more-so, and there comes a point where you either fix what matters, or let it go. Maybe things aren't the same, and maybe they will never be again, but maybe they're not supposed to be. Life's evolutionary for a reason, Bobby.

Goren's lips twitched a smile. "You're suggesting evolution in a church."

"You know what I mean," Rainy rubbed her eyes.

"And what about you?" he asked after a moment.

"What about me?"

"Why are you putting off Gus?"

Rainy shifted uncomfortably, "Straighten out the issues with your partner; then you can give me advice about mine." She abruptly bowed her head, signed the cross, and hastily left Goren alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Alex Eames found Goren at his desk, far more bleary-eyed than the day before, reading a fresh stack of files. He looked disheveled, exhausted, his hair unruly, his eyes heavy, face still unshaven. This had become the portrait of her partner in the weeks since his return to the job. He barely acknowledged her presence as she hung her coat and unpacked her laptop.

"Late night?" she asked, neutrally.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled.

"You sleep?"

Her humor was lost on him. He cupped his chin in his hand, leaning heavily as he continued shifting through reports with the other.

Captain Ross was at their desks within minutes of Eames's arrival.

"Where are we at with the Hudson case? I need a summary to take upstairs."

"It will be a brief one," Eames mumbled.

Ross shot her a glare. "You've been on this for three days? What are we missing?"

"Bakr Okaly," Goren offered, "He's the only key person we haven't made contact with. His absence coupled with his relationship to Emily Choi…I think he's the missing piece."

"So find him," Ross ordered.

"Preferably quickly," a voice added.

The trio looked up and to the left. Rainy had quietly joined the conversation from a distance.

"Agent Jansen," Ross greeted curtly.

"Are you online, Detective?" Rainy ignored him, instead motioned at the laptop on Eames' desk.

Eames nodded and spun the computer to face Rainy. The detectives and their captain waited expectantly while Rainy plugged her Blackberry into the computer and began clicking without paying them any attention.

Finally, she straightened and addressed them. "In late 2007, US Forces obtained a number of documents detailing the origins and biographies of hundreds of men who supposedly entered Iraq as potential jihadists. When we visited the hostel yesterday, it didn't sit right with me that the clerk said Okaly checked in with a passport, since we found an Egyptian passport amongst his belongings. I contacted a buddy, he sent me this link. It is essentially the confiscated documents, digitalized for US Forces to attempt to identify possible operatives, both deceased and of unknown status. This one stood out."

She turned the computer back to face the other detectives, who saw a barely legible document written entirely in Arabic. The title read AL_BAKR. "Unfortunately, there is was no photo to go with this name, and names are too easily changed. So I kept looking." She turned the computer again, "There are a few other websites out there geared towards locating missing persons. This one is like NamUs, the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System launched by the DOJ and the National Institute of Justice. It's similar because a good portion of the listings come from family members of the missing." She spun the computer around a final time. "Meet Syed al-Bakr, a Libyan national, missing for approximately sixteen months. Even potential jihadists have families that want them back."

Goren rubbed his chin, while Eames gawked, and Ross appeared to remain calm, as they viewed a poor-quality but unmistakable clear photo of the missing roommate.

"My office, all of you," Ross directed before leading the way there.


	10. Chapter 10

"Look, it goes without saying that the whole alphabet soup will be dumping everything they have on record regarding the al-Bakr from the database, and the one we are looking for. They will send out the hounds and they will find him," Rainy Jay sank into a leather chair at the back of the room.

"And when they find him they're not going to care about whether or not he killed his roommates," Goren added.

"In this situation, no, probably not; they're going to be more concerned with how he breached homeland security to get here in the first place. Unless you find him first, you had better be damn sure about your facts, or the Spooks will have him on a one-way plane to Cuba before you know it. So, where's your murder board, what do you have."

Goren paced in a tight circle, nervously rubbing his neck. He slowly stepped backwards towards the door, eying Eames as he went. "Give us an hour."

Eames pursed her lips, holding back any comment.

"One hour, meet us in the conference room," Goren backed out of the room, Eames close behind.

As Rainy began to rise, Ross ordered, "Stay."

Rainy reluctantly settled back into the chair, adjusting her suit jacket.

"I figured something out, Agent Jansen," Ross began, while Rainy appeared non-pulsed. "You seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why. Then I remembered." He reclined slightly in his chair. "Several months ago I got a call from someone named Dr. Bruder, trying to locate Detective Goren regarding a mutual friend, he said. He had a thick accent and pronounced your name in traditional German. Against my better judgment, I connected them. And now that you're here, I contacted a friend at the JTT who pulled your file."

"So you remember how to be a detective, Captain, and now you think you know me. What's your point?"

"My point, Agent Jansen, is the safety of my detectives, and part of that is to know who is in my squad room. So imagine my surprise upon learning that you are in fact inactive, not on the radar anywhere, and no one at the JTT or New York Office can tell me why, except to say that you are somehow connected to the deaths of three American men in Iraq late last year and the capture of a top operative. Now is the part where you fill in the blanks."

Rainy looked up at Ross confidently, "I am on a medical leave of absence pending evaluation and hearing. SAA Pace, with whom you spoke yesterday and is deputy to the assistant director over the JTT, arranged an exigent circumstance clearance for me to assist with your investigation. Pending results of said hearing, I have nothing more to say," Rainy stood and straightened her jacket. "I had no interest in this case, Captain Ross, your detectives came to me. But if you are no longer interested in my _linguistical support_, say the word, and I'll gladly get back to my vacation, turn this in to my supervisors, and you can go fight the other agencies for continued jurisdiction on this case."

* * *

"She may be right, Bobby," Eames settled into a chair in the conference room, spreading files out in front of her.

"Right about what?" Goren pulled files away from her as she spread them.

"What _do_ we have on Bakr Okaly that would persuade the Feds, or anyone else, to allow us to talk to him before they take him away?"

Goren settled into a chair across from her, rubbing an eyebrow with his thumb before resting his chin in his palm. "I don't know. I just know we need to talk to him. Whether he did it or not, he knows something. I know he knows something."

Eames eyed him skeptically before returning her gaze to the pages in front of her.

"Goren, line two," a passing detective quipped into the room.

Goren stood and left the room. He returned in a hurry, "I moved the surveillance from the hostel to the Jordanais apartment after we release Sidiq. Now he is on the move, and a man matching Jack Jordanais is following."

Eames also hurried to her feet.

While she headed for her coat, Goren went to Ross's office. He opened the door without knocking. "Sidiq is on the move, we need Rainy."

Ross and Rainy Jay stood simultaneously. "I'm coming also. Agent Jansen rides with me."

Goren masked his confusion, simply nodded, and led the way out of the bullpen.

* * *

As Ross and Rainy Jay buckled their seatbelts Rainy called Agent Pace, requesting phone dumps on the Jordanais apartment and all applicable cellular phones, knowing the Bureau could acquire them more quickly than the NYPD. Upon hanging up, she warned Ross that the more she contacted the Bureau the more likely it would become that its interest would take precedence in the case.

They continued the drive in awkward silence, relieved by the ring of Rainy's phone. She answered, listened, and hung up without thanks.

"Last incoming call to the Jordanais apartment was from a payphone at Hudson. It's going to take some time to get anything on the cellular units."

"Returning to the scene of the crime, that isn't very smart."

"And how many smart criminals have you known?" Rainy Jay bit her thumb and gazed out the window. "When I lived here, years ago, there was this greasy joint that served fat falafels and the best humus in North America; Israeli, Middle Eastern food. My parents loved it. It was about a block from Hudson."

Ross nodded expectantly. "It's still there. My boys love it too. Call Goren."

* * *

Across the street from _Ibrahim's Kebab_, Ross shifted into park. Goren and Eames did the same around the corner.

Before Ross could offer instructions, Rainy opened her door, "Let's go buy him a cup of _Türk kahvesi_." She stepped out and closed it.

Consternated, Ross followed. He ambled off in the opposite direction of Rainy, approaching Goren and Eames' SUV. "Call for a sector car. We'll bring them out. Don't approach unless you see one of us. I don't want him spooked if we can help it."

Eames nodded and rolled up her window as Ross started after Rainy.

Rainy stood in line behind a handful of college-aged patrons. She appeared entranced with the menu, though her eyes barely glanced over it.

"The _shawarma_ is delicious," he mumbled, coming up behind her.

"Mm, but I haven't had a good _sufganiot_ in years," she acknowledged.

"I am a jelly donut," he deadpanned. "Is our boy here?"

"Near the corner booth, has his back to us, but he seems pretty nervous."

Ross nodded and approached the counter and ordered two to-go cups of Turkish coffee.

Rainy grabbed a student newspaper from a nearby rack and led the way to an empty booth. She slid into one side, her back to Bakr.

Ross sat across from her, looking expectant. He flailed his fingers, indicating a need to know what would come next, as she had been calling the shots.

In response, Rainy shrugged and removing a pen from her pocket, began to do the newspaper's crossword puzzle.

"You're serious?" he glared at her with wide eyes.

Rainy shook her head and discretely indicated the doorway as she lifted the paper slightly to shadow her face.

Sidiq entered, pushing hair out of his eyes whilst simultaneously wiping his brow of perspiration. He scanned the bistro quickly, eyes settling on Bakr, and he hurried towards him.

He sat across from Bakr, "ayn knt؟ anhm ybahthwn ank." _Where have you been? They are looking for you._

"aarf. lm yfal shyeea ، lknnifihajh ala msaadh. ayn hibaldiwalmjlat؟ ana fihajh eelyha." _I know. I did nothing, but I need help. Where are my journals? I need them._

Rainy, listening to the conversation, raised an eyebrow and nodded to Ross.

Ross stood and approached the table. He glared and Sidiq before turning to the other young man, asking, "Bakr Okaly, I presume." He revealed his badge. "You need to come with me." He reached for Bakr's upper arm.

Bakr began to plead, emitting a serious of "no" and "please" in mixed Arabic and English. Ross pulled him from the bench and led him outside the eatery, where Goren, Eames, and a set of sector officers awaited him.

Rainy, meanwhile, stood and slid into the bench Bakr previously occupied. She shook her head, avoiding eye contact with Sidiq.

"He told me not to trust you," Sidiq whispered so low that through his accent he was barely decipherable.

"Who?"

"Jack."


	11. Chapter 11

"dawna nmdhy." _Let's go._ Rainy stood with her coffee, grabbing Sidiq's elbow as she did.

Ross stood with Goren and Eames on the sidewalk. His voice was out of earshot but his head nodded to indicate first Bakr in the back of a police cruiser and then the entrance of the restaurant, just as Rainy and Sidiq emerged.

Rainy passed Sidiq's elbow off to a uniformed officer standing just outside the building. "He doesn't ride with his friend," she instructed.

"He have anything to add?" Ross asked.

Rainy shrugged noncommittally before shifting to her right, nudging her shoulder towards the street. "Think the peeper might?"

The trio discretely eyed the direction she indicated in time to see the rising tinted window of an expensive town car.

Without waiting for any responses, Rainy took off in long strides towards the car, with Goren and Ross a step behind. Upon reaching the vehicle, she tapped on the previously lowered window the metal of her badge. It lowered again. "Who're you?" she asked.

"Jack Jordanais," Goren answered before the man could.

Jack nodded curtly.

Rainy mimicked his expression before turning to face the men behind her. "I think he needs to come downtown too." Before they could question, she started off for Goren and Eames' SUV, tugging out a cigarette as she walked.

* * *

Captain Ross coordinated the arrival of his officers and suspects by phone during his return drive to 1 Police Plaza. He directed for Bakr Okaly to be placed and observed in an interrogation room, while he, the detectives and the agent, confronted Jack Jordanais and Sidiq Fayyad in a non-threatening conference room. Goren and Eames sat across the table from Jack and Sidiq while Ross sat at the head and Rainy Jay lingered in the background.

Goren bit his lip as he flipped pages in his binder. His face twisted in disappointment and confusion. His eye contact fluttered between that of his partner and captain before narrowing in on Jack Jordanais. "I thought we had an agreement," he began and shifted his gaze to Sidiq, "with the both of you."

Sidiq began to speak first, but was silenced by a touch on the forearm from Jack. After pausing a moment to ensure the younger man's outburst would not continue, Jack began to speak. "Bakr called Sidiq this morning. Sidiq informed me immediately. I allowed him to go ahead and meet Bakr, though I did not tell him I was following. I thought that if I told him, and Bakr truly was there, it would be better for me to bring him to you, than for you to pick him up." Jordanais remained composed, his hands folded in his lap.

"Why did you feel it would be better for you to bring him in, than for us to pick him up?" Goren continued.

For the first time in either of their meetings, Jack appeared uncomfortable. He appeared to consider his words carefully before responding, "The history between the NYPD and the Arab community is no secret, Detective. After what happened with Sidiq, I couldn't take the chance that your officers might manhandle Bakr as well."

"He ran!" Rainy Jay interjected, and to which Captain Ross responded with a hostile glare.

"And you are the intrepid FBI agent who stopped him, I assume? Your agency's relationship with the Arab community isn't much better, is it?" Jack's cool façade began to crumble, as did Rainy Jay's.

"Mr. Jordanais, we are trying to bring your family justice. You have implied that Campbell Brown is family to you, no?" Ross interceded.

Jack nodded curtly. "Yes, he and Emily both are."

"Then with any prejudices that may or may not exist aside, why are you interfering with this investigation?" he continued.

"That was never my intent, Captain. But I am trying to protect these young men from unjustifiably losing their life or liberty as well."

"I can assure you, the best way to do that is to let us do our jobs," Eames added.

Goren nodded his appreciation to her before resettling is attention on Sidiq. "Why didn't you contact us, or Agent Jansen, when Bakr called you?"

Sidiq nearly whispered his response, without making eye contact with anyone. "I am just trying to help him. Bakr has no one. He came to this country all alone. He does not have family or someone like Jack." He paused and made a fleeting glance to the man adjacent to him. "Jack told me what to expect in America and how to behave. Bakr is foolish. He works hard, but he is not prepared, he does not know what he should. I would not want for that to be me."

"Did Bakr tell you anything when he called?" Ross asked.

Sidiq shook his head, "No, just where was I and would I meet him. That is all."

Ross nodded and looked to his detectives. With no comments from them, he stood. "We will be in touch."

Jack began to stand as well, but Sidiq demonstrated no sign of movement. "Please, what will be done with Bakr?"

"We need to speak with him." Goren offered.

"And when you're finished, you will allow him to return, to school?" Jack questioned.

Goren remained uncommitted to a response. "We'll let you know."

Ross opened the conference room door and motioned for a uniformed officer to show the two men out. He closed the door again and turned his focus to the investigators. "That was a very noncommittal response, Detective."

"I don't think he is our guy," Goren began.

Ross stiffened and for lack of better response, smiled. "You've been searching for this guy for days, finally have him, haven't even spoken to him, and you've arrived at this conclusion how?"

Goren fiddled with his pencil. "Emily was petite, but tall, five foot ten or so. Bakr, he can't be more than five foot four? I don't think he would have had the leverage to asphyxiate her while simultaneously assaulting her, as Rodgers suggested in her report."

"Why didn't you pick up on this sooner?" Ross attempted to calm.

"Bakr's records all suggest he is at least six feet tall. The jeans Sidiq had yesterday gave me an indication something wasn't right, but it wasn't until we picked him up this morning, when we actually saw him that I could conclude anything definitive."

"He still could have killed her, even if it wasn't during the rape," Eames offered.

"Maybe," Goren shrugged, "Even if he didn't, if what Rainy Jay has uncovered is legitimate, we'll have to turn him over to the Feds."

Rainy stepped closer to the table. "Turn him over to me now and we won't have to worry about him asking for a lawyer, or going before a judge."

Ross vehemently shook his head. "We get the first crack. Go. Do."

Goren tensed in restrained protest, but led the trio to the interrogation room.

* * *

Upon entering the observation portion of the interrogation units, Goren, Eames, and Rainy Jay observed Bakr Okaly kneeling on the hard floor with his back to the one-way glass. Goren pressed a panel button to allow audio transmission into the room. A whispered, almost lyrical cadence of speech came over the small speaker. The detectives listened, though they did not know the meaning of the words.

Rainy Jay did not meet the detectives' gazes she knew would eventually fall on her for translation. Instead, she leaned against the wall behind them and offered an explanation. "It's a _Du'a_, a supplication," she listened another moment, "an _istikharah_, he's looking for guidance. He expects Allah to give him an answer, which will provide him relief."

_allhm eeniaawth almstshar mn almk_ ، _waawth bak msaadh alqdrh alklyh_ ، _wana asalk lnamtk alraeeah. ya allh_ ، _atha knt tarf an htha alamr mn wdhaijyd baalnsbah lifidyniwhyatiwlraayh lifialhyah alqadmh_ ، _- faqdrh liwtjal mn alshl baalnsbah li_، _thm baark lifi weetha knt talm an htha alamr syeea baalnsbah lifidyniwhyatiwlraayh lifialhyah alqadmh_ ، _- thm baad thlk mn li_، _walmsafh bayniwbayn thlk_ ، _wmr baalnsbah lima hw khyr aynma kan _

_O Allah, I seek the counsel of Your Knowledge, and I seek the help of Your Omnipotence, and I beseech You for Your Magnificent Grace. Surely, You are Capable and I am not. You know and I know not, and You are the Knower of the unseen. O Allah, if You know that this matter of my situation is good for me in my religion and in my life and for my welfare in the life to come, - then ordain it for me and make it easy for me, then bless me in it. And if You know that this matter is bad for me in my religion and in my life and for my welfare in the life to come, - then distance it from me, and distance me from it, and ordain for me what is good wherever it may be, and help me to be content with it._

They waited until Bakr had stopped his prayer. He continued to kneel quietly, without saying anything or moving for several minutes afterwards. Finally, he stood unsteadily as blood returned to his folded limbs. He leaned on the table as he pulled out a chair to sit.

Goren looked to Eames and then led her from the observation room into the interrogation room with Bakr. Rainy Jay, though expected to follow, did not.

Goren and Eames sat across from Bakr. "I'm Detective Goren, this is Detective Eames. We need to talk to you about your friends," he hesitated waiting for Bakr to offer some form of acknowledgement, "your friends," he repeated, "Emily, and Campbell. Do you know what happened to them?"

Bakr shook his head. He finally spoke in heavily accented English, "Emily is dead." He tensed, notably.

Goren waited for him to continue before prompting, "And Campbell?" Bakr still did not show any emotion to the name. "Campbell is dead too." Goren finally offered.

Bakr shifted his eyes to Goren's for the first time since the detective entered the room. He offered a one-word response. "Good."

Goren looked to Eames, who attempted not to reveal the chill Bakr's response gave her. Goren shifted uncomfortably, scratching his chin. "It's good that your friend is dead?"

"He is no friend. He is _kāfir_, without Allah!"

"Alright," Goren nodded reluctantly. "When did you last see Emily?"

"At the party."

"The party on Sunday night."

Bakr flinched a nod.

"What about Campbell? When did you last see him?"

"_ibn kalb_," Bakr muttered.

Goren masked a confused frown, and raised an eyebrow. "Bakr, we need to know. We are trying to help you," he persisted.

"No! No more. I have nothing to say." Bakr put his hand up and then covered his face, leaning into his palms, his elbows propped on the table.

Goren looked to Eames who had remained silent. He bit his lip. She had nothing to offer. They stood and went back into the observation room.

Rainy Jay had moved to lean against the one-way glass. "He called Campbell a _son of a dog_, not very menacing, even by his standards." When neither Goren nor Eames acknowledged her comment, she continued. "If you let me have him, he doesn't get a choice whether he wants to talk or not. You keep him, and he can sit there in silence until you get him before a judge and have his visa status properly revoked. Of course by then, the Alphabet Soup will all be competing for a turn, if anyone gets one at all."

"There's no guarantee someone won't just come take him, no matter what we do," Eames added.

Rainy Jay nodded somberly towards Goren, mumbling, "You know where to find me," and exited the room.

The detectives caught one another's eyes briefly before each turned awkwardly in opposite directions, both unsure of their next move.

* * *

"I'm just trying to help you out here, Bakr," Goren offered for at least the fourth time that evening. "I just need you to answer my questions."

Several hours had passed since the detectives placed the young man in the interrogation room. Goren and Eames tried all of their usual tactics to confront him, speaking to him individually, together, leaving him alone for long periods, offering him snacks and meals. Though he generally refused to speak, Bakr never asked for an attorney or counsel. He simply resisted all attempts to crack his stoicism. It appeared to Goren that his latest endeavor would be as fruitless.

"I do not have to answer your questions," Bakr responded, as he had all the previous times. It was the closest the young man ever came to asking for a lawyer, but until he asked directly, the detectives continued to question him.

"Actually, Bakr, you do," Goren lamented in frustration, any indication of kindness had left his voice and posture.

Bakr seemed to notice this shift in the detective's demeanor and he tensed slightly before responding, "No. I am no citizen of yours. I answer nothing."

"See, there, there you're wrong. There we have a problem." Goren was exhausted. If it required aggression to get through to the younger man, then aggression it would be. He struggled to maintain an even tone as he continued. "You have a passport, a visa, don't you?"

Bakr sat completely still for a moment before giving the slightest flinch of a nod.

"Good. You'd have to, to be here. And you know what? When you signed that visa, you agreed to be subject to the system and all the laws of that country. My country. Your country, presently, which means you have to answer my questions, or you'll go to jail until you do. And you know what else, Bakr? If you're afraid of being here," Goren swirled his finger around nondescriptly in the air, "just imagine what it's like in a jail full of still-angry New Yorkers. Patriotism, Bakr, is something that never goes away, even behind bars."

Bakr did not move. Goren leaned his forearms on the table in front of him and slouched his shoulders, never breaking eye contact with Bakr.

After a few breaths had passed, Goren continued, "Are you ready to answer my questions now?"

Bakr did not hesitate, though his voice trembled, "I have nothing to say to you."

Goren could not help but smirk at his defiance. He finally broke eye contact, looking down to his binder and files that lay between his arms. "Okay," he nodded, "okay. I'll go give Riker's a heads up." Without another glance at Bakr, he swept up his belongings and stalked out of the room.

Captain Ross and Eames met him in the observation room on the other side of the mirrored glass.

"Thought you might have had him that time," Eames disingenuously offered.

Goren said nothing and instead shook his head and his shoulders shuddered in an attempt to loosen the tightened muscles. "I don't know what else to do with him. Give him a meal. Give him the night. Hope he'll relax enough to talk by morning?"

Ross looked at the clock and noted he and the detectives had been working for nearly 14 hours. "I don't know if he will, but maybe you two will think of something else by then. Go home. Fresh crack after you've both had some rest."

The detectives did not protest.


End file.
